The Room of Requirement
by xCharlie-Groupiex
Summary: "As Luna healed herself, Draco closed his eyes. She studied him out of the corner of her eye, taking in his person. So this was Draco Malfoy, behind the scenes".
1. Chapter 1

**Story created by xCharlie-Groupiex (Sacha D.).**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own or take credit for any of J.K. Rowling's creations, including the characters of the Harry Potter series, Hogwarts, and the wizard world at large.**

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 **The Room of Requirement:**

Luna was in the seventh floor corridor, searching for her ever-missing shoes. They'd vanished sometime between third and fourth period, during Charms class. She never should have removed them, aware of their tendency to disappear, but her feet had begun to exhibit the strangest, tingly symptoms of pins and needles that morning. The sensation was so unbearable that she'd had no choice but to remove her shoes and walk around the castle in her socks in order to ease the discomfort. She had left the shoes beneath her bed, but later when she had returned for them, they weren't there.

The practical jokes had started halfway through her first year at Hogwarts and had never ceased. Luna was in her third year now, and she was still bewildered by the fact that others took pleasure in making her life more difficult. She liked to see the best in others and didn't have the heart to retaliate against those who enjoyed stealing from her. Two wrongs didn't make a right, as her mother had always said. Hiding people's shoes in revenge for her own missing pair would make no sense; it would only lead to an epidemic of barefoot wizards and witches at Hogwarts. Anyway, she always found her possessions. In strange places, no doubt, but she always did get them back.

Once, in her second year, she had been searching for days for the only pair of shoes she owned at the time. It had become discouraging; her feet were blistered and she had begun to lose hope of ever finding her shoes. Luna had sat by the lake, soaking her feet in the cool water and feeling very frustrated.

Her reflection in the water changed, rippled, which she attributed to the tears that compromised her vision. But, a creature rose from the water, then, breaking through her reflection; a slippery, ghastly looking thing. It screeched at Luna, causing her to leap up with a jolt of surprise. The mermaid held a pair of soaked converse shoes by the laces, draped with algae, and gave them to the enchanted girl. Then, it disappeared beneath the surface of the water, deep into the murky green depths of the lake. Luna's reflection wavered, then settled.

It was a pivotal moment. Luna began to frequent the lake more often. She felt a renewed sense of optimism, of faith in the goodness of beings. She always found what she was looking for. It was the one constant in her life; the only other being that people would always try to take things from her.

Luna strolled through the corridor, peering into every nook and cranny, behind suits of armour and beneath tapestries. She asked the moving portraits, whom she was on good terms with, if they had seen a pair of pink converse shoes. She walked up and down the corridor, deep in thought, more than once. Her fellow students were becoming more and more creative when it came to finding places to hide her belongings from her. Fortunately, Luna herself had a creative mind.

On her third trip around the level, a door appeared which she had not previously noticed. She almost passed it by. It wasn't locked. Curious, she turned the handle and let herself in. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but it was far from that with which she was met in the next instant.

Inside of the room it was moist and hot. Luna's blouse at once began to stick to her skin and the baby hairs near her forehead began to curl. Wonderingly, she checked out the place she had stepped into, though it was hard to see through the shroud of mist which enveloped her. Mist? That seemed odd, although oddness in general was something Luna was used to.

She moved further into the damp heat, feeling as though she was walking through a warm cloud. A droplet of sweat trickled into her eyes, blinding her momentarily. What was this place?

Luna smiled ecstatically as comprehension dawned on her. Not mist. Steam! This place, this room she had never witnessed, was a sauna. With her sight very much impaired, she continued her exploration of the room, slowly. The tie of her uniform felt constricting and she hastened to loosen it. The floor would have been quite slippery to tread upon with her converse, so in a way she was lucky to be without them. Her socks were soaked, though, which wasn't a very comfortable sensation. She stopped to pull them off, leaving them behind as she continued her sightless traverse of the room, gliding over the wet tile in her bare feet.

It didn't strike Luna to feel at all apprehensive. Neither did she wonder if another person might also be occupying the strange space. However, when she banged her knee painfully against a hard surface, she gave a small, startled cry, and soon realized she was not alone.

"Who's there?" An unknown voice called out, unnervingly.

Luna drew her wand, although she doubted she would have need of it.

" _Diminuendo_ ," the person muttered, and the vapour clouds around her began to shrink, to swirl around the room until they disappeared. Luna's newly improved vision absorbed the sight of Draco Malfoy, seated on a wooden bench. He was naked and glistening from the waist up, with a black cloak draped over his thighs for the sake of modesty. Luna stared at him in shock; he held his wand in a show of casual readiness, grey eyes fixed on hers, though his gaze was blurry and unfocused.

"Loony," he acknowledged, throatily, in a tone with so many nuances that she was unable to decipher his intentions.

She was still standing in the same spot, arms at her sides with the wand lowered, her knee burning. Her expression was unreadable. She felt vaguely threatened by him, as he seemed to be by her. They were both getting over the after shock of such an unexpectedly intimate encounter.

A beat passed and neither of them said a word. He hadn't jinxed her yet, which was good; but he hadn't blinked in a while, either, which was off putting. His lip curled, but his expression remained open to interpretation. Finally, he blinked, and Luna gave a nervous giggle over the singularity of the situation.

"What is this place?" She asked him innocently. Now that the air had cleared, she observed that the walls and the floor were made of white tile and that there were beads of condensation dripping from the ceiling. The wooden bench which had maimed her was attached to the wall, part of a structure; his back rested against the base of another bench which was positioned above his own.

Draco scoffed. "Room of Requirement."

"Oh," Luna looked around. She'd never heard of the room before, never noticed it, but she knew that Hogwarts was a mysterious place. There were undoubtedly many other locations on the school premises of whose existence she was unaware, besides a sauna hidden on the seventh floor. Hogwarts _was_ rather impressive.

Luna returned her attention to him, feeling curious. Beside Draco there was a glass bottle. It was half full of a transparent liquid the colour of water. Luna had her doubts about the contents of the bottle. Draco appeared a bit too relaxed and dreamy for the uptight individual she knew him to be.

His movements were slow and his usual scowl was replaced with a look of deep introspection. He wasn't behaving the whip smart antagonist for which he was known around the school. His platinum hair, stringy as a result of the clammy atmosphere, was slicked back unevenly, one strand falling into hazy eyes.

Upon closer inspection, the eyes were unexpectedly interesting: dilated pupils like bottomless pits, light grey irises a delicate ring around the black holes. His stare held something back, an impetuosity. Luna thought she could tell that he was broody at present, maybe angry, definitely caught up about something.

As the steam began to build once again, Luna placed herself on the bench, extending her leg before her. "Oh dear," she lamented, examining the minor injury. A bit of blood was welling up from the cut, staining her fair skin. She exchanged a wistful glance with Draco, who seemed transfixed by the wound. What a curious fellow. If she didn't know better, Luna would have supposed he was occupied by Nargles. But, he smelled of clean sweat and alcohol, which revealed the true nature of his uncharacteristic condition.

"Can I have some alcohol, please, Draco, to clean the wound?"

To her surprise, a capricious chuckle escaped him. "You do know you're a witch?" Still, he passed her the bottle.

Luna laughed shyly, caught off guard. "Oh, yes, but I'd quite forgotten. I've been reading this book set in the muggle world, you see. I've gotten rather into the story."

As Luna healed herself, Draco closed his eyes. She studied him out of the corner of her eye, taking in his person. So this was Draco Malfoy, behind the scenes. His near nakedness didn't disgust her. Nor did it make her uncomfortable. He was comfortable with himself, seemingly impervious to her presence.

Herself, she was felt peculiarly at ease, given the situation. Suddenly, he sighed, visibly relaxing into the torrid heat. Luna observed him, the light sheen on his skin, as she adapted to their proximity. She wondered when he would turn on her.

Luna rolled the bottle over in her hands. She screwed the cap off and brought the bottle to her nose, identifying the rum only due to her knowledge of Xenophilius Lovegood's well stocked liquor cabinet. Boldly, she took a sip, shuddering in distaste almost immediately. However, once it was down, the rum felt rather pleasant to her tummy.

"Hey," Draco sounded groggy. He took the bottle back from her with authority."How old are you, anyway?" He tilted his head back and swallowed a good deal of the stuff, cringing at its strength. Some of the liquid escaped his mouth and ran down his chin, dripping onto his neck.

"I'm a third year," Luna told him, amused. The steam had filled the room, so the only thing she saw anymore was Draco. She was wretchedly hot, and feeling the tiniest bit light headed. "May I ask you a question?"

He turned to her, wearily, looking dubious. "What?"

She smiled at him."Why are you letting me stay?"

Draco shot back at her immediately. "Why are you choosing to?"

"I've never been in such a place as this before. I was looking for my shoes, when I came here." She wiggled her toes, reaching for the bottle and taking a small sip of the tepid alcohol. "You know, this stuff is really much better with a sliced lime and some mint. Some ice would also do nicely."

"I don't care," he grumbled, grabbing the bottle from her. "Who asked you, anyway? And how do _you_ know that?"

Luna wasn't bothered by his patronizing. She shrugged, the smallest of smiles on her lips. She'd had her taste; her curiosity was sated and she decided it wasn't worth drinking such a bitter substance to get a bit of a buzz. She certainly didn't want to end up looking the way Draco did at present. There was also the fact that, despite his current display of tolerance, Draco wasn't the kind of person around whom a wise girl would render herself incapacitated.

"What's wrong?" She asked him when the silence became unnatural.

Draco sighed and adjusted the cloak around his lower body. It really was very hot. His pale cheeks had begun to flush with the heat and the drink, and Luna herself had a notion that she looked fairly crazy at present. Her hair felt huge with the humidity.

"You don't look well, Draco," she told him. "Let's get out of here, shall we?"

She didn't think he would allow her to include him in her plans, but to her surprise he frowned and nodded his consent. They got up, him clutching the robe around himself and appearing to take each step with careful consideration. Luna took the lead, moving through the white puffs of steam toward what she thought to be the room's exit.

"Watch out, it's slippery," she warned him. She felt him grasp her wrist in his firm grip and, before she could respond, his warm mouth had engulfed hers. Draco kissed her, his lips parting hers with gentle insistence, merging their tongues with a palpable longing. It was over suddenly, leaving Luna breathless and confused.

"Draco-"

He kissed her again, just a momentary meeting of the lips, but so riveting. Her silvery orbs were wide as they connected with his dilated ones, questioningly. He grimaced, seeming to remember who he was, and shifted away from her.

For lack of a better reaction, Luna descended into the steam, crawling over the tile until she had retrieved her sodden socks."I've got my socks!" She announced enthusiastically, popping up. He watched her skeptically, then followed her stiffly to the door.

"Wait." He looked down at himself, then back at her. "My judgment is pretty compromised right now, but I know that I can't go out like this."

Luna grinned with humorous delight over the situation. "Well, that's your problem, isn't it?" She asked, opening the door and slipping through it.

Luna scampered giddily through the empty corridor, past the appraising stares of the portraits, to the Ravenclaw common room. It was still early, but the torches had been lit to illuminate the way. She was regarded with speculation by the other Ravenclaws as she ascended to her dormitory, but no one asked her what she'd been up to or why she was soaked. Luna's eccentricity was nothing new to her fellow house mates.

Draco's eccentricity, though, that was something new.

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 **Voilà the first chapter! I sincerely hope you enjoyed and I would really appreciate your thoughts! Thanks :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

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 **The Room of Requirement:**

Though her mind was rather occupied over the next day, she never stopped wondering where her shoes had gotten to. She searched high and low for them, her favourite pair, feeling their loss deeply. That evening, she returned to the seventh floor on a whim to visit the Room of Requirement, wishing to experience the place for herself. She was aware of the fact that Draco might be there. However, when she reached the seventh floor, the room was missing.

She looked twice, but it simply wasn't there. It was so queer, and so incredibly interesting to Luna. She analyzed the wall where the door had been, just the day before. It was a wall and nothing more. It wasn't like the castle staircases, which shifted constantly of their own will. Or, was it?

Fascinated, she decided to read up on the Room at the library. She skipped through the halls, heedless of the cynical expressions she drew from her peers. Her colourful personality was relatively overlooked, however, due to the arrival of the contending schools for the Triwizard Tournament. The castle was buzzing with excitement over Viktor Krum and the beautiful witches from Beauxbatons.

Luna thought about Harry Potter and of his chances of winning the tournament. The first task was fast approaching, and he had been unprepared when his name had been chosen by the goblet of fire, or so he claimed. Luna, for one, believed that he had been set up by someone who wished him harm. There was always someone out to get Harry Potter.

The presence of Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup in the summer reinforced the danger Harry, and all people, were in. Granted, not many people believed that You Know Who was alive, but the Lovegoods were believers. It made Luna feel totally disturbed to think about it, but she had a feeling it was true.

This was one of the reasons she felt conflicted about Draco's kiss. Not the only reason, though; he'd been drunk, after all, and he was generally thought to be a bad person around the school. Draco had definitely mocked Luna on more than one occasion, though she was lucky not to have been the victim of some of his crueller jokes. These he reserved for Gryffindors.

It was well known that Lucius Malfoy was, or had been, a Death Eater. Luna had been kissed by the son of a follower of the darkest wizard ever to exist. His tongue, that sharpest of tongues, had entered her mouth. She was having difficulty getting over the shock of it.

Luna knew what her preconceived ideas about Draco were, as well as what she had learned from actually interacting with him in the past. But the other day, she had seen the Slytherin in a totally new context. She still wondered why he had been drinking, and why on earth he had kissed her. It seemed unreasonable to conjure that he might actually like her. This was really unrealistic, despite his actions.

Her thinking was that he had been looking for an escape.

She opened a dusty tome and leafed through the yellowed pages, sipping green tea occasionally. So the Room of Requirement was a refuge for any who should need it. A person had only to circle the seventh floor three times and, if they were truly in need, the room would appear. This didn't explain why the sauna had appeared while she was looking for her shoes, though.

Luna decided that first thing in the morning she would go and wish to find her shoes on the seventh floor in the hope of invoking the Room of Requirement. For now, she was falling asleep where she sat, so she got up, stretching, and made her way back to her dorm through the corridors by wand-light.

Her dream that night was vivid.

 _She was walking through a long, dark corridor, when she came upon the door she sought. She opened it and entered the Room of Requirement. Instead of steam billowing through the room, however, it was filled with smoke. Alarmed, she covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve, eyes tearing. Luna attempted to dispel the smoke with a spell, but the fume only grew more heavy as it coursed through the room._

 _She hastened to leave the place, when she heard a weak cough and a moan. "Lumos," she gasped, and her wand projected a bright light, allowing her to peer through the thick smoke. He was there, as she'd known he would be, lying nearly unconscious on the bench. The glass bottle was shattered. In her hurry to rescue him, Luna didn't stop to wonder about the fact that the room beheld smoke, but no fire._

 _Luna made her way over to him and dragged his limp body toward the exit, choking on the rancid smoke. He was clothed and dry, breath wheezing in his chest. Finally, she got them out of there, into the empty corridor of the seventh floor. She slammed the door of the Room of Requirement shut and it disappeared._

" _Draco," she knelt beside him on the flagstone, shaking him. His eyes were closed and his brow, damp with sweat, was furrowed. She smacked him gently on each cheek, calling to him. When his eyes opened she felt that she could at last catch her breath._

" _Luna," he intoned, sitting up feebly, gripping his wand tightly. His eyes were red and teary from the smoke and he shielded them from the light. "What the hell is going on?"_

" _I don't know," she told him seriously. "The room put you in danger."_

 _He coughed hard, slowly taking in his surroundings. The castle air felt refreshingly cool compared to the inferno of the Room of Requirement. Draco stared at her, intensely, as she continued to watch him closely. "I have to thank you," he said, finally. Reaching out, he took her hand._

" _Draco," she said uncertainly, recalling the last time he had touched her._

" _Luna," he whispered._

 _They stared into each others' eyes, concentrated. Luna's silver orbs were large, her heart pumping in her chest as he drew in closer. His expression was one of unspeakable passion and for some reason she allowed it, even though she knew this moment would change everything._

 _Instead of kissing her, he grabbed her wrist and turned it over, pressing the tip of his wand into her skin. "Morsmordre," he whispered and she felt a searing pain as he burned the Dark Mark into her._

 _Luna felt her whole being scream out. "No!" She shrieked, clutching her wrist, feeling her surroundings begin to tilt and turn. She stared at him with a look of pure horror, tears springing to her eyes, helplessness closing up her throat._

" _We can be together now," he told her with a look of grim resolution._

Luna awoke with a start, shivering in the aftermath of the fear that was still ebbing through her. She lay in bed, staring at the navy blue canopy, which in the darkness appeared to be black. She could hear the peaceful breathing of her dorm mates, deep in their slumber, and wished she could sleep so easy.

So the events of the previous evening had affected her more than she had realized. Luna couldn't help but feel a bubble of mirth, thinking of the kiss and of the way she had left him. However, the dream left her unsettled. As she slipped back into sleep, she dreamed some more, heady with passion and rich emotions. However, she couldn't remember the details when next she awoke, Saturday morning.

Although the nightmare had certainly been disturbing, Luna pushed it away for the moment in the pursuit of more interesting events. Breakfast was the main priority at this time of day. She brushed her long, pale hair, then skipped down to the Great Hall. With all of the attention on the students from the competing schools, Luna went more or less unnoticed, despite the fact that she was still in her pyjamas.

There was hardly any room at the Ravenclaw table due to the new arrivals, the girls from Beauxbatons. They were lovely creatures, well mannered and coquettish all at once. Luna squeezed herself onto the bench between two fifth years. As she spread peanut butter on toast and sipped earl grey, she tuned in to the clatter of the Great Hall, the voices of hundreds of excited students speaking at once. Luna herself didn't have anyone to talk to, but this was hardly out of the ordinary. She began to ruminate over the dream she had had, wondering about its significance.

She felt pensive that day, wistful. She was surrounded by people, and yet she felt particularly lonesome. Luna chewed her toast slowly, savouring the taste. She took to people watching, as she liked to do. She observed Harry Potter at the Gryffindor table and noted that he appeared to be quite stressed. It was no wonder. The first task would be upon them in only a few short days. Who knew what he would be up against.

Luna noticed that Ginny Weasley was watching Harry, too. She was the younger sister of Harry's best friend and was in Luna's year. They hadn't spoken much, but Luna was inclined to like her.

After having finished her breakfast, she got up from the table. As she was leaving, Luna turned around for one last look at the student body, and her gaze met that of Professor Dumbledore. A rush of warmth invaded her and she smiled at him with bright eyes. His own brilliant blue eyes were sparkling at her and his smile was the most comforting thing she had seen in the last week.

Luna had a lump in her throat as she left through the great doors and made her way up the winding staircase to the Ravenclaw Tower to dress.

Draco did remember his foolish actions. He wasn't sure what kind of follow up this situation called for. He had a strong urge to seek her out, to make sure she wasn't spreading gossip, but was that really necessary? Might it not be better that he ignore what had passed between them, avoid her altogether?

He still couldn't believe that he had kissed the Lunatic.

What the devil had he been thinking? Clearly, he hadn't been thinking at all. Or, in his drunken mind, he had thought that she was rather sympathetic. Perhaps, had he mistaken her natural friendliness as her coming onto him? He didn't know. All Draco knew was that she was the last girl he would ever think to kiss. For some reason, this had, apparently, made the prospect all the more appealing.

Draco noticed her leave the Great Hall during breakfast in her periwinkle moon and stars pyjamas. Automatically, his eyebrows raised in disbelief at what had happened. _What on earth..._

Fortunately, there was enough going on at the Slytherin table to distract him. The Slytherins had the honour of hosting the Durmstrang students at their table, which included one Viktor Krum.

Krum was a massive fellow, very direct and single-minded. The extent of his conversation tended toward grunting, though he would speak in short, thickly accented sentences when least expected. At the moment, the whole of Slytherin table was focused on the Quidditch star, giving Draco some leave to brood in silence.

Draco had at least some relief that his secret was held by Luna rather than any other girl in the school. She was so odd that anything she spouted about him would be treated as nonsense. All the same, Draco would rather not lay his reputation on Loony's lack of credibility. Hopefully, she was too naïve to fully understand just what power she currently held over him. He prayed that she would keep any embarrassing information to herself.

Draco downed his coffee cup in a single swallow, fuelling himself on caffeine to make up for the horrible night's rest he'd had. He had always been prone to insomnia, but it was getting out of hand this year. He was chronically exhausted and thus always irritable. He found that his school work and overall health were suffering greatly as a result of his sleeplessness, but he didn't know what to do about it.

Throw in the caffeine he needed to be able to function and his nerves were fairly shot. But it was a vicious cycle, because the more anxious he became over his inability to sleep, the harder it was to get the rest that he so needed. He'd almost snapped the other day, having failed a Transfiguration exam and received a cryptic letter from his father, when he'd lost the Snitch to the other Seeker in the opening Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. Bloody Hufflepuff!

It was all due to his exhaustion. His current state was keeping him from achieving anything and now all of Slytherin was on his case for having lost the match. Viktor Krum, his idol, whom Draco had been keen on creating an association with, had snubbed him. The shame of his failures was too great to bear and had led Draco to wandering the castle after supper time, anything to avoid returning to the Slytherin Dungeons to take the piss from his housemates.

Draco seethed privately over his predicament, glancing with scorn at the Hufflepuff table, those ridiculous Puffs who always seemed to be in a good mood. Today, they were even more sickeningly cheerful than usual, thanks to the win Draco had afforded them at Quidditch the day before. Hufflepuffs weren't known for being especially good at Quidditch, so their beating Slytherin was a mark of just how much control Draco was losing over his life.

When looking at the Hufflepuff table, it was impossible to pass up the House's current pride and joy, Hogwarts' Triwizard Tournament contestant Cedric Diggory. Draco observed the older boy with mild curiosity. He was a beaming, friendly fellow with striking looks. He'd be the poster boy for such a competition if it weren't for Harry Potter.

Distaste invaded Draco's consciousness at the very thought of his name. Poor, famous, orphaned Potter. Fucking hero. A cold fist of dislike clenched Draco's heart as his gaze wandered over to the Gryffindor table. Potter, who seemed to possess some kind of sixth sense, looked up responsively at the feel of disparaging eyes. Grey met green and Draco tensed up, his body reacting in anger at the face of his enemy. Potter lay a belligerent look at him, then broke eye contact.

 _That's it_ , thought Draco to himself darkly, staring into the sea of blackness in his newly filled coffee cup. _Let this tournament be the death of you._

The day passed uneventfully, besides the enhanced gossip that came with the new arrivals as they settled into Hogwarts style of life. Draco suffered through Quidditch practice with a throbbing head ache, counting the hours until he could retire to his own devices. The combination of a hangover and an exaggerated intake of caffeine left him dehydrated and inclined to be heinous to those around him. Furthermore, Potions class and History of Magic had attributed a heavy work load to be completed over the weekend, which didn't help to regulate his mood.

Supper was a tedious affair. All of the attention was on Krum and the other contestants, for the first task of the Tournament was only days away. Draco's housemates seemed to have more or less forgotten Slytherin's loss to Hufflepuff, because he was treated civilly once more. He, however, hadn't entirely forgiven himself.

Draco felt rather peculiar. His mind was entirely too full of preoccupations. He couldn't muster up the energy to get into the competitive spirit of the Tournament. Throughout the meal, he felt neglected, though it was by his own doing that he kept to himself. After an hour of much silence and only a few listless attempts at conversation, he decided that he'd had enough of being ignored, and left the table. He fully intended to retreat to his dormitory to indulge in some self pity when he was stopped just outside of the Great Hall.

" _How much do you want to bet that Potty takes the Triwizard Cup?"_

The spectral voice came from out of nowhere and stopped him in his tracks. Draco's brow rose quizzically. He looked around himself until he realized who he was dealing with.

"Piss off, Peeves," he muttered, flexing his wand hand reflexively, much good that would do. He resumed his walk at a more assertive pace, squaring his drooping shoulders against the incoming onslaught that was the school poltergeist.

Peeves floated into view, circling his target tauntingly, already giggling madly with mischief. _"Oooh, someone's feeling sensitive!"_ He followed near as Draco's stride increased in speed.

The best tactic to use when confronted by the devilish Peeves was to ignore him until the disgruntled spirit grew bored and drifted away. Draco, who wasn't the patient sort, had already displayed his frustration, making himself a prime victim. His only choice was to evade.

Peeves gained on him, stalking Draco through the corridor, rising and falling, flipping and looping like an off-rail roller coaster. He babbled and whooped, cackled maniacally in Draco's ear. " _Malfoy's a no one, Malfoy's a no one, and Peevesy knows a secret..."_

Draco grit his teeth and turned sharply for the passageway to the dungeons, cutting off the rest of the insinuating chant. With a thin sweat due to the exercise, he descended into the murky depths of the Slytherin dungeons, into the lush lounge area and the consolation of a royal green armchair. Finding comfort in the quiet and solitude, it took no time before his shoes were off and his feet elevated by a matching plush foot stool. He stared sleepily into the fire, which lit the room with a fluorescent green glow.

Unknowingly, he began to drift off. Images played behind his closed eyelids. They were of a pleasant nature, but tinged with caution. It was as if his subconscious was warning him that there was danger in what he saw.

He wasn't sure that he saw her, exactly, but someone figured in his dreams who was supposed to represent her. This person told him mysterious things and he found himself in awe of her, but still there was that sense of riskiness.

The dream came to climax and Draco awoke with a gut-wrenching start, somehow feeling worse for wear than he had prior to his nap. There was a group of younger students watching him with wide eyed curiosity, who looked away hastily when he challenged them with a stare.

He went upstairs, cast a spell of silence around his four-poster bed and slept profoundly through the night.

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 **Thanks for reading! Please review!**

 **Sacha**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters from the Harry Potter universe. I only own my perceptions of the characters, which are completely due to J.K. Rowling's brilliance.**

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 **The Room of Requirement:**

A week had passed since the Room of Requirement had brought them together, since he had kissed her drunkenly, without asking her permission. They hadn't spoken since, but they saw one another often in passing and it was strange every time. Draco felt something that was not quite embarrassment, but a hyper-alertness in her presence. When they spotted each other in the corridors, there was always a marked moment of nervousness, a beat of wary acknowledgement before they each proceeded awkwardly on their way.

Draco was beginning to be familiar with the whites of Luna's eyes, since she always seemed astonished to see him. She, in turn, noticed that he was prone to small, almost imperceptible jolts of movement when she took him by surprise round a random corner.

For the first time, Draco was really aware of her. He observed her when she wasn't looking, taking in the weirdness of her cork earrings and her oft bare feet. When she looked back, he wasn't sure what to make of it. Her expression was reserved, but not completely closed off, for she was looking back at him, after all. There was a small note of fearfulness in her body, though, which made him feel funny that he had this effect on her.

Their encounters differed greatly depending on who was around them at the time. When he was with his companions, he might feel a bit hesitant when her pale moon face floated by in the sea of students, but he didn't dare look at her twice. The situation was altogether different when he would meet her in passing, by himself. For some reason, in these moments he felt that he could look into her eyes, although he was never certain what he would find when he did so.

What was strange: he felt obliged to treat her correctly, having behaved rather badly in the past. She may be a weird girl, but she was young-younger than he was, at least. The teasing was one thing-Draco didn't want to think that he was a lecherous prick who would force himself on someone, least of all a young and innocent girl like Luna.

It so happened that they bumped into one another on the third floor one day. Classes were already in session, which meant that they were both late for their individual courses. They didn't quite collide, but almost. Their eyes met in recognition, then widened uncertainly. A flurry of feeling burst through Draco, a sensation close to anxiety, but he stood rooted to the spot. His face became stony as he looked at her, simply to mask what he was feeling.

Her eyes were deep wells of silver as she looked up at him, from four inches below his six foot one. She studied his face, taking in the petulant set of his mouth and the controlled brow. Suddenly, he thought that she didn't seem so young. On the contrary, she seemed older and wiser than him by years.

Before he could react or articulate what he felt a twisting need to say, Luna ducked her head and made to leave. It evoked a strange reaction in Draco. He felt disregarded, his importance cast aside.

The air was heavy with repressed energy, the silence laden with confusion. Draco's mouth twitched. He felt uncomfortable. "Wait," he said thickly.

Luna turned her head and her silver eyes pierced his, clear and bright. She was listening.

"I don't know what came over me."

There was a long pause and Draco's blood spiked with cortisol. Finally, unexpectedly, Luna's face broke into a smile. "You're forgiven." She shifted the stack of books she was carrying and waved goodbye before sauntering off, her curtain of white blonde hair swishing behind her.

Draco released a long breath, and a foreign expression creased his dour features.

From that day, the smiles crept up on him. Draco would be in his dorm or in class and suddenly, he was grinning as though a funny thought had entered his mind. When he passed her in the hallways, wearing his habitual scowl, she might smile at him kindly and to his surprise an answering smile would overcome his face. It was most unlike Draco Malfoy and it hurt his face. But, inside it felt fine, if unfamiliar. The exchange provided a very brief respite from his worries, for he was still tightly wound.

Harry Potter had taken the first Task of the Tournament. He'd succeeded against the odds, which should have been expected as per regular Potter fashion. Draco and the rest of Hogwarts wore "Potter Stinks" on their shirt fronts and took every opportunity to jeer and boo him. Things seemed to be looking up for Draco, until a short lived but traumatic experience as a ferret, courtesy of Mad-Eye Moody.

Luna visited the seventh floor regularly, but the Room of Requirement never appeared for her again. She had found her shoes on the feet of a kitchen elf, who looked comically endearing dressed in rags and pink converse high tops. She hadn't had the heart to take the beloved shoes away from the creature, who now considered himself free and demanded a humble wage for his service in the school Kitchens. It made Luna happy to see the joy on the creature's little face. The Lovegoods didn't want for money, so she made a plan to visit Hogsmeade the following weekend to shop for new footwear.

The grass on Hogwarts grounds was brown and covered in fallen leaves. The wind, strong and chill, lifted Luna's lengthy hair and blew it about her as she made the short journey to the village. She wore a thick cloak, a blue scarf and a pair of black dress shoes which pinched her feet cruelly. They were beautiful, but not worth the pain they produced with each step. She promised herself that this would be the last time she ever wore them.

The air was crisp and fresh, the sky a blue bordering on grey which signified that it would rain. Luna whistled to herself as she walked, slowly, wand held in her swinging hand. She enjoyed the tranquility of the moment, breathing in the green air of the Scottish Highlands, the enormous stone castle looming behind like a vigilant friend.

There weren't many people out and about, due to the weather. Luna imagined that a good many of the students were still tucked cozily into bed, it being a Sunday morning. She'd risen early to take her breakfast in the sparsely filled Great Hall, filled her pockets with Galleons and left the castle by nine o'clock. She was quite fond of Hogsmeade and planned to make a day of the excursion; to do some window-shopping along with the real shopping and to warm herself with a delectable Butterbeer before returning to Hogwarts.

Luna had never been the kind of person to let anything keep her from living and enjoying her life. Just because she hadn't any friends, didn't mean she couldn't enjoy herself. Of course, a bit of company would have made the trip to Hogsmeade even more delightful, but her own company was good enough. She was her own friend.

The peace of the countryside was a welcome change from the bustling activity of the castle, with its current number of inhabitants reaching somewhere in the thousands. Luna listened to the soft moan of the wind, the shrill cries and flapping wings of black birds taking flight.

At this time of year, Luna always felt a trifle homesick. As much as she adored Hogwarts, every day life at the castle wasn't as carefree as it was at the Lovegood House. Here, there were inter-House rivalries to think of and bullying. This year, there was the added pressure of the Triwizard Tournament. The competition was as exciting as it was dangerous and Luna-although never the object of others' concern-cared about the well being of the contestants. Finally, it would soon be exam period and there was still two months left until the holidays.

Then there was the question of Draco Malfoy.

Funny how the one evening had altered so much. That night had given Luna the ability to see Draco in a different light. To see him vulnerably. She now knew that he had problems just like she did. Problems that he didn't seem to know how to deal with.

Not to say that she thought he was a victim. Draco still harassed other students, especially Gryffindors, and behaved like a snob. No, he _was_ a snob. But Luna didn't judge him as harshly as she once had. He was in pain, that much was certain. It wasn't normal to all but finish off a bottle of rum by oneself.

How unexpected that he'd tried to apologize to her for his behaviour. Though, the word sorry never had left his mouth. Luna herself didn't know how she felt about the stolen kiss. Thinking about it made her feel simultaneously shocked, worried and giddy.

As she arrived into the village, her precarious mood elevated at once. Hogsmeade was a friendly place, quaint, picturesque. Luna immediately felt at home among the small cottages, home to various wizard families of ancient lineage. High Street was where the main shops were located, including Zonko's and Honeydukes. There wasn't a doubt in Luna's mind that she would be visiting both of these locations, in passing.

The shoe situation needed to be remedied quickly. The ones she was wearing weren't functional. Looks weren't everything, clearly. Luna limped on, pain shooting through the soles of her feet with each step. The shoes were rubbing unpleasantly against her skin; any moment, smoke would appear due to the friction.

The bell above the door sounded as she entered a small second-hand clothing shop. Despite the modest size of the store, it held a surprising amount of clothing. It was a veritable treasure trove, offering traditional robes and cloaks of all colours and fabrics along with an array of more modern choices; trousers, dresses, skirts, T-shirts, blouses and more. Luna pulled herself away, wondering vaguely where the shopkeeper was, and zoned in on the shoes.

There was indeed a great deal of choice. Luna kicked off the evil dress shoes and began trying shoes on. There was a small mirror hung upon the wall in which she could study her lower half. She considered a pair of brown combat boots, but then she saw a pair of rainbow sneakers, and there was no contest. They fit perfectly and comfortably. Thrilled, she made her way toward the empty counter to pay for her new shoes, looking around for the mysteriously absent shopkeeper.

"Hello," she called. "I'd like to pay for my shoes."

The silence which met her statement was infinite. "Hello," she tried again, looking around. A sudden movement from the corner of her eye made her turn her head back toward the counter.

 _Greetings,_ wrote a quill on some parchment, both of which had heretofore lain immobile on the counter. Luna beamed at the sight and stepped in closer as the quill continued to write its message.

 _I am currently in the impossibility of being at your service. Please leave the full payment for your purchase in one of the envelopes provided and place it inside the green tome. Once your payment has been placed in the book, it will be impossible to retrieve, so please proceed with care._

 _Smile, you are under surveillance!_

 _Thank you for shopping at The Thrifty Thread._

 _Cordially,_

 _Mrs. Radley_

 _Shopkeeper_

Thoroughly bemused, Luna did as the message commanded. The bell above the door chimed again as she left the shop with her new shoes on her feet, the previous pair discarded in the shop to join the Thrifty Thread's vast collection.

She felt beautiful as she walked, admiring her shoes with each step. Luna only hoped that this pair would stay with her permanently. She feared that their splendour was too great, that they would prove too much of a temptation to whoever had originally stolen her last pair. But, then, nothing in life was permanent. It was best not to get too attached to anything.

Luna reminded herself of this as she ventured on, very much caught up in her own thoughts. The weather was just right. Chilly enough to bring a bit of redness to her cheeks, but warm enough to allow her to take her time in getting to her destination.

The carpet of leaves on the ground offered a resplendent display of colour. The pumpkins in Hagrid's garden patch were almost ripe. All Hallow's Eve was quickly approaching. Luna pondered over the history of the holiday. She revelled in the delightful ominousness of this time of year. Halloween was the one day witches and wizards were celebrated by the Muggle world.

Luna knew quite a bit about muggles. They intrigued her almost as much as Crumple Horned Snorkacks. She was very interested in anthropology; the study of humans. Hogwarts needed to implement an anthropology class within its curriculum. If the gap between pure-bloods and muggleborns was ever to be truly bridged, education was needed about the non-magical branch of the extensive family tree of the human species.

As she walked against a playful wind, Luna considered the present state of relations between the students at Hogwarts. For once, the school was more or less united. The Triwizard Tournament had created a common goal. There seemed to be less rivalry than usual between Houses at the moment. Of course, the usual animosity which existed among the different Houses seemed to have been redirected toward Harry Potter. He was bearing the brunt of his bad luck more than ever.

Luna was very insignificant to the goings-on relating to the Triwizard Tournament. She was a third year, so she wouldn't attend the Yule Ball unless someone invited her. It was a shame, for she dearly loved to dance.

No, she was completely on the sidelines at the moment. She rather preferred it this way. Better to be ignored than to be harassed constantly, pushed and shoved, jinxed and taunted. Being invisible allowed her to observe those around her, and her observations usually led to intriguing insights and hypotheses.

Luna headed over to Zonko's, Honeyduke's and The Three Broomsticks respectively. As she was mulling over a steaming mug of Butterbeer, pockets filled with sweets, a strange feeling overcame her. A burning sensation rose through her body, growing inside of her chest and spreading out into her arms and up to her face. All of a moment, she was blazing. Luna blinked in surprise, reaching up a tingling hand to test her warm cheek.

She felt lightheaded, but Butterbeer could barely be considered an alcoholic beverage. The logical explanation was that she was suddenly coming up with a fever. She was wearing her corkscrew earrings, so it couldn't be nargles. Red faced, she swallowed the last of the drink and pulled on her cloak, tying her scarf as she passed through the door. The cold air was incomparably refreshing and Luna relaxed a bit, although feeling puzzled about the whole experience.

She made her way back to the castle at a quicker pace than she had left it. The sky was darkening ominously and the air was charged with electricity. Exhilarated, Luna thought that she had never felt more in touch with the elements than in this moment. She felt as if she could fly just by outstretching her arms to be lifted by the wind. No need for a broomstick.

She remained earthbound, but the ethereal feeling followed her, almost pulling her to the Great Lake. Some unknown force beckoned her to sit down and as the sky opened up and the rain began, Luna understood why. The water poured in buckets, drenching her, cooling her flaming cheeks, nourishing her parched lips.

There was confusion. And a grief so strong it made her heart ache. Try as she might, she couldn't subdue it and soon the lump in her throat got the better of her. A few tears. That was all. But they were the most bittersweet tears she'd ever cried.

She got up, feeling silly. Her hair and clothing was sopping wet, raindrops in her eyes stinging as she squished through the grass towards the castle. From afar, Luna could see that the castle torches had been lit, illuminating the ordinary windows with a beautiful yellow light. If the ordinary windows were beautiful, they were nothing compared to the multi-coloured stained glass. These shone like a beacon from where Luna stood, squinting up through the rain.

Groups of students appeared from every direction as Luna slipped through the front doors into the Entrance Hall. She shied away from the glances drawn by her curious, dishevelled state and walked with her head held high. It was already supper time, but Luna would need to change before heading into the Great Hall.

A small smile played on her lips as she climbed the marble staircase, dripping slightly. The brightness of the castle interior compared with its current dark exterior was stunning. Everything was iridescent. She became blind to the looks garnered by the other students. It was so much more enjoyable to be bathed in light.

Something did manage to catch her attention. It was Malfoy, cavorting down the steps easily, two at a time. He was all swishing black robes, straight spine and blank, cautious expression. Luna could tell by his vibe that he wasn't in the best of moods.

He surprised Luna by acknowledging her. "Gone swimming?" Draco's facial expression didn't change despite the comment, giving Luna difficulty in interpreting the question. Was this the start of some mean-spirited wisecrack, or was he making conversation?

All she could do was regard him in the same blasé fashion that he was looking at her. "No," she finally answered, when he didn't immediately continue down the stairs. He was staring at her intently, but Luna didn't understand what he expected from her. She stared right back.

Luna wasn't aware that she was giving off any particular impression, but Draco seemed to sense that something was off about her. He gave a little frown and narrowed his eyes at her in scrutiny.

"Have you been _crying,_ Loony?"

Luna's brow crinkled momentarily, but then she gave him a wry smile. "Why do you ask that?"

Draco shrugged. "Your eyes are red."

"Oh, well, thanks for letting me know."

He gave her a terse nod, and they each turned to continue on their separate paths. A few students milled by; nobody of any importance. Draco relished his own imposing presence and the way the younger students kept their distance as they passed by.

"Draco," Luna called out to him after a few steps. He didn't reply but turned his body back to face her. "I haven't been able to get back into the Room of Requirement. I was wondering if you knew why."

Draco shrugged, but his eyes didn't waver from hers. She thought she perceived some inkling of curiosity behind his watchful grey eyes. "I don't know," Draco said. "I haven't been able to go back either..."

Luna smiled at him humorously and discerned an answering tug at the side of Draco's mouth.

"Oh, well. Goodbye Draco. Have a nice meal." She turned her back on him and ascended the staircase, not stopping until she reached Ravenclaw tower.

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 **That's it! Hope you enjoyed. Please review my lovelies :)**

 **Sacha**


	4. Chapter 4

**I like writing this story.**

 **Disclaimer: Own Harry Potter? Me? You must be joking. I do, however, own Arvid Akselsen, who makes a brief appearance in this chapter.**

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The Room of Requirement:

Draco's eyes were distant as he stared at the dinner table. Crabbe was beside him, stuffing his face with mashed potatoes and gravy and telling some story. A few seats further, Krum was ripping into a leg of chicken.

Draco knew that he was exhibiting more and more of a tendency toward introversion. He didn't speak much during meals anymore. The bravado which had characterized him since his first day at Hogwarts had given way to a surliness. He was too exhausted to talk much. Instead, he did a lot of stewing.

"Draco," Goyle pulled on his sleeve from his place on Draco's other side, breaking him out of his reverie and earning an appraising look for his trouble.

"What is it, Goyle?"

"Yule Ball's coming up soon."

Draco eyed him. "So it is."

"Have you given any thought to whom you're taking?"

"Pansy, surely." It was the easiest route.

Goyle nodded as if this was the answer he had expected. "She's not bad, Pansy."

Draco drank from his water glass, giving the girl in question a glance. "She's a rich, pure-blooded Slytherin. And she's in love with me."

He gave a smug smirk for Goyle's benefit, who laughed with due appreciation. Draco watched Pansy from where she sat further up across the table, giggling with Zabini and a Durmstrang lad. Surrounded by men as she was, Draco registered the fact that he would need to act quickly to secure her as a date for the Yule Ball. Pansy wasn't one to take chances with her social status; she might not hold out for Draco if he waited too long to invite her.

There were other girls he could ask, of course, but so many of the girls in Slytherin put on airs. Draco wasn't interested in actively courting someone he hadn't thought twice about before this moment. With Pansy he knew that he would at least have a tolerable time at the ceremonious affair.

Despite his cynical nature, Draco wasn't dreading the occasion. Although the Yule Ball was based on tradition, it would be a night of distraction at worst and debauchery at best. It was also a wondrous excuse to dress sharply. Draco enjoyed expensive things and was looking forward to the fine quality robes his parents would send him for the celebration.

Pansy was a much more appropriate date than, say, someone like Luna Lovegood. He could only imagine what she would wear to such an event.

Not for the first time, Draco questioned why the naive blonde witch had crossed his mind. She had a habit of coming upon him unexpectedly; first in the Room of Requirement, then in the corridors in passing and now in his thoughts. He found himself acting against his better judgment and indulging her, as he had on the stairwell earlier. It was never really intended. The moment they'd shared in the Room of Requirement, that had certainly not been intended. But these things just seemed to keep happening.

Was he really indulging her, or indulging himself?

These were questions that boggled his mind, so Draco ignored them. He put Loony in a box and placed her out of sight. Suddenly, due in part to some paranoia, he felt an urge to isolate himself, to leave the bustling Great Hall. He forced himself to stay. It was important that he assert himself if he was to maintain the public image he had so meticulously cultivated over the years. He was a Malfoy and a Slytherin. There was responsibility in these roles.

The Sorting Hat had made Draco a Slytherin because of his heritage and his malicious tendencies. He remembered being a mean little boy, vain and selfish. This remained the case, to an extent. Only, this year was different. The self-righteous anger he had hosted since childhood was no longer enough to quell the over-analyzing that preoccupied him.

Who cared about anything when it seemed like Potter was climbing up the ladder of success while Draco was all but hanging onto it?

Draco was still deeply humiliated by the public transfiguration he'd endured at the hands of Mad-Eye Moody. Never-mind the short amount of time that had passed since the scene; if there was one thing that Draco couldn't accept, it was being a laughingstock. He was extremely bitter about the dramatic encounter. Yet, in addition to taking his frustration out on those around him, as he had always done, he was punishing himself for a change.

Fortunately, news of the incident had not reached his parents. That would have been horrible. The cold disappointment they would have expressed at the Malfoy name being made into a farce would feel like a blow from a Bludger.

Draco often used Lucius as a threat, with the statement: 'my father will hear about this!' In reality, it wasn't entirely beneficial that Lucius Malfoy be too involved in his son's everyday life. Draco wished to maintain a certain level of freedom, however fickle it might be.

He would restore his reputation on his own. He resolved to ask Pansy to accompany him to the Ball as soon as possible. Despite the certainty he had expressed to Goyle, Draco wasn't convinced that Pansy was still in love with him. She appeared to be smitten with the entire Durmstrang Institute student body. Draco glanced over at her discreetly, mildly curious. At the moment, Pansy was hanging onto Akselsen's every monosyllable.

At least there was a fair amount of time before the Yule Ball. Draco tried to relax his body. He shouldn't worry so much. It gave him indigestion.

In the meantime, the next major event was Halloween. This cheered him a little.

On Halloween, ruthless pranks were perfectly justified; not that justification was ever needed by a Malfoy to do as he pleased. The very theme of the holiday was to scare.

Draco swallowed some pumpkin juice, wishing it were wine. The Slytherin table was doing little to entertain him. In fact, he was feeling tired. He had a migraine and his body was lethargic. His insides were anything but calm. For some strange reason, he was experiencing a sharp pain on the left side of his body, beneath his ribs. He had no idea why he felt so unsettled.

Merlin, what was wrong with him? Why did he feel this way? Why did he feel like jumping to his feet and locking himself up in the dark Dungeons? Why did he feel so exposed? It was nonsensical. Draco forced his features into a mask so as not to betray his unease as he pushed the leftover food on his plate around with his fork. He kept his gaze lowered.

He still wasn't sleeping. It was enraging. The evening of the abstract dreams, that was the last time he'd had a good night's rest. Almost two weeks ago now.

It was incomprehensible. During the nighttime, he was tired, but simultaneously wired and alert. His mind wouldn't stop turning, wouldn't allow him a moment's repose. The consequences were by no means trite.

Draco felt his body turning against him, his mind become jagged and full of complicated inconsistencies. His looks, always a point of pride, were suffering. The boy had dark circles beneath his cloudy eyes and his light colouring was more pallid than usual. He'd forced himself to forego the coffee which kept him sane in an attempt to remedy the insomnia. So far, all this had done was to cause some trembling caffeine withdrawal symptoms.

Sleeping was one of the simplest tasks in the world. It was yet another thing he failed at.

He'd like very much to have a place of refuge to go to tonight instead of returning to the Slytherin Dungeons. He hadn't the patience to pretend he was fine, when he was far from it. Draco knew that his uncharacteristic reserve would spark curiosity from his housemates. He didn't feel like answering questions about his touchy mood.

Perhaps he should pass by the seventh floor. Maybe the Room of Requirement would appear for him. He pictured a king sized bed and a darkened room. He visualized himself beneath the covers, slowly drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

The only problem with the image was that he was solitary. Despite his conflicted feelings about his entourage, Draco didn't want to be alone with himself tonight.

He wondered, if he did decide to go up to the seventh floor, was there a risk of bumping into Loony Lovegood?

According to their earlier conversation, she had also been trying to get back into the Room.

Draco didn't know why he even spoke to her.

"Draco."

"Draacoo."

"Draco!"

Someone was waving a hand before his face, bringing his glazed over eyes back to attention.

"You're mighty deep in thought," Pansy remarked. She had assumed Goyle's place beside him.

Draco looked around himself and realized that, in the time he'd been introspecting, the Great Hall had emptied considerably. How could this have gone unnoticed? Had he fallen asleep over his plate or something?

Draco sighed and got up, slowly, as his limbs were heavy.

"Wow," the girl commented."You look as though you've taken a fall off your broomstick. You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. A bit tired."

"Get some rest, then. Me and Blaise, we've got something fun planned for Halloween. We want you on board."

It was as if she had read his earlier thoughts. Or maybe, he and Pansy were more alike than Draco had realized. "What's the plan?" He demanded as they left the Great Hall side by side.

"So you're up for it, eh?" She smirked at him.

"Certainly, if it means putting Potter back in his place. Don't waste my time, otherwise."

Their eyes met and Pansy winked at him, lightning quick. "Wouldn't dream of it. Let's go relax, shall we?"

 **...**

" _Or perhaps in Slytherin_

 _You'll make your real friends,_

 _Those cunning folk use any means_

 _to achieve their ends."_

The common room bustled with activity. Yet, Draco and Pansy's entrance was still duly noted amid the general havoc. Draco heard his name called and turned to see Crabbe gesturing to him from his spot before the fireplace. Draco approached. None of the armchairs were currently available, but when the fourth years collectively turned their gaze to a first year, he quickly vacated the cushioned seat he'd been enjoying.

Draco sat and observed his surroundings. A large number of Durmstrang students lounged throughout the Common room, including Viktor Krum. There was Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle. The Greengrass sisters, Millicent Bulstrode and Tracey Davis were also present, albeit not seated with the rest of the group. Astoria was braiding her elder sister's hair while Daphne read from her Potions text book. Millicent and Tracey appeared to be engaged in some amusing gossip. Rather than stay with the boys, Pansy drifted over to her dorm mates and inserted herself between the latter two girls, quickly joining in on the prattle.

The boys spoke of the Tournament, dark magic and sports. Naturally, talk of Quidditch led the conversation to the events of that summer at the Quidditch World Cup.

"Priceless," commented Blaise. "Absolutely chaotic."

"Yes," agreed Krum decisively. "The Mark of Karkaroff burned and very fast, it was started."

"Draco's father must have also known," Crabbe interjected, genuinely oblivious to the obviousness of his statement.

"Yes, Father knew," said Draco softly. "I believe he was as surprised as the rest to feel the burn of the Dark Lord after more than a decade."

"Yes, but none were more surprised than the Mudbloods. Remember, Crabbe?" Goyle exchanged a grin with his counterpart, who laughed heartily at the memory of the scene in question.

Draco thought back to the evening of the Death Eaters' coup on the campsite. Mudbloods had been targeted and subject to forceful levitation and other means of humiliation. He recalled goading Granger that she would be displaying her knickers in mid air if she wasn't careful. A warning of sorts, though with the sole intention of frightening the girl. The threat had not produced its desired effect. Though, to Draco's satisfaction, it had succeeded in getting a rise out of Potter.

Despite their Pureblood status and the Dark Mark adorning his forearm, Lucius had grabbed Draco and Disapparated from the location promptly. The contrasting tranquility of Malfoy Manor could be felt immediately upon arrival.

No explanation was given for the speedy departure and Draco knew better than to question his father's authority. Moreover, there was an anxiety present in Lucius' bridled demeanour which Draco did not wish to exacerbate. So, he retreated to his majestic bedroom to lie on his bed and stare at the vaulted ceiling. Meanwhile, Lucius and Narcissa discussed the situation in quiet tones over a decanter of soothing spirits in the dining room below.

"The only inconvenience was, I assume, that the whole thing disrupted Bulgaria's victory party," rose Pansy's voice from her spot between her two dorm mates. Apparently, the girls were tuned into the conversation, after all.

"Not so," replied Krum with a playfully mocking glint in his dark eyes. "We still did very much party." He smiled charmingly at Pansy, who appeared to flush with pleasure.

Krum turned his eyes to Draco pointedly, who felt his widen. Confusedly, he maintained the gaze, refusing to blink. Finally, Krum broke the eye contact and murmured something in Bulgarian to a friend who nodded in acquiescence.

It was awkward for Draco, who tried not to stiffen in response to the Triwizard champion's show of dominance. Yet, he said nothing, but stretched languorously, with a corner smirk at Blaise, who was watching the display with mild curiosity.

The dialogue switched over to a different topic and Draco's attention waned. He stared into the fire, transfixed by the sparks and glowing embers. The logs sustained long, red cracks from the flames which replicated the texture of a mountain eaten by magma. The heat was comforting and simultaneously torturous. Rather like his friendships.

His companions noticed his silence, but gave no comment. The gathering remained for another hour before slowly breaking up, with Krum's departure as the main catalyst of the group's dispersion. At the end, only Draco, Blaise and Pansy remained.

"About what I mentioned earlier, for Halloween," Pansy interrupted the silence.

Draco looked up questioningly.

She smiled at him. "I see I've caught your interest."

Draco scoffed, though his eyes alighted with pleasantry. "You do know me," he acknowledged.

"Yes, I do. Now, Blaise and I have been thinking that some fun is in order. It's been too long since the Gryffindors have been properly messed with."

"That, and Potter is certainly worth his due for the disgrace he brought upon me."

"You're speaking of the ferret incident," confirmed Blaise, somehow managing to keep a straight face.

Draco glared at him. "Obviously," he spat.

" _Anyway_ ," Pansy sneered, "it's time we got those bastards magnificently."

"I won't say no to that," agreed Draco. "How will it be done?"

"There's one of two things we can do-"

He interrupted unconcernedly. "Why not both?"

Blaise nodded slowly. "I concur. Why _not_ both?"

Pansy paused for a moment, looking at the two boys. Blaise appeared eager while Draco was expressionlessly attentive. "Damn, you're right. What am I thinking? We'll do both!"

Draco didn't sleep well that night, but at least he had something to look forward to.

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 **Thank you for reading! If you feel inclined, please review.**

 **xox Sacha**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Thanks to .com for all of relevant information about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry including the structural layout of the castle, classes and character information.**

 **Enjoy!**

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 **The Room of Requirement:**

Luna sat at her desk idly as she waited for class to commence. She was seated near the window. History of Magic was a course which necessitated such entertainment. Luna's mind was what her father referred to as thirsty for knowledge but she wasn't consequently immune to boredom.

Unfortunately, Professor Binns had a style of teaching which induced a level of tedium otherwise unknown at Hogwarts. The professor's monotonous voice, void of natural inflection, maintained a single, flat pitch and agonizingly slow rhythm. Thus, an otherwise interesting topic was rendered dull.

Even Luna's keen intellect couldn't suffer to follow the professor's discourse too closely.

At least the view from her window seat was stimulating. Charming little squirrels stashed their supply of acorns for the winter, like buried treasure. A quick smile quirked her lips at the thought that more than half of the little creatures would forget where they had buried their nuts. This would result in a portion of trees being unintentionally planted. Luna turned back to herself and began to scrawl in her journal, completely enraptured in the activity. The sound of her quill scratching against paper was pleasant. As usual when she wrote, she wound up with ink smudges on her fingers. Luna's long hair was draped over her right shoulder and descended past her waist, to hang just below the seat of the stool she occupied.

As the Gryffindors with whom the small classroom would be shared began to stream in, Luna remained focused. The classroom filled with young voices, rising to a crescendo which fell away when Professor Binns floated through the door. Upon the teacher's arrival, Luna shut her journal and reached into her bag for a roll of fresh parchment. Professor Binns began the lesson without delay, at once submerging the class in his dreary drawl. Luna let out a mute sigh and wrote down what key words she could catch of the Professor's monologue. The topic was Witch Hunts.

It wasn't long before Luna had lost her concentration entirely. She looked out of the window once more, resting her chin in her hand. The sky was dark for this time of day, with a persistent wind which blew about the stray leaves. It was quite spectacular.

Although the outward view was an interesting one, the other students were equally intriguing to Luna. She studied the faces of her fellow students unabashedly. Colin Creevey was, amusingly, trying to jot down notes, but his head kept drooping to rest against the desk. The boy seemingly attempted to raise his head, but was unable. His body visibly began to relax and he was soon fast asleep.

Nanette Desford, a fellow Ravenclaw seated near the front, wasn't much better off. Luna watched as the writing movements of Nanette's hand began to slow and then stopped altogether. Soon, the girl was pinching herself in an effort to keep the drowsiness at bay. Luna was afforded a good chuckle.

She, for one, didn't feel tired. Distracted, yes, but wide awake. She glanced over at Ginevra Weasley who was sat close by. The red haired witch was staring at Professor Binns with a look of heavy reluctance. When she noticed Luna's gaze upon her, her brown eyes joined Luna's silvery-blue and Luna could detect friendliness within them. Luna smiled happily in response and continued to look at Ginny until, with ears turning pink, the Gryffindor turned her head.

Luna slipped into a daydream. She peered at the professor without absorbing any of the lecture he was giving. So disconcerting, the fact that she could see through him. What was it like, being a ghost? Luna figured it must feel unreal, if it contained feeling at all. What did the Professor do in his spare time, when he wasn't teaching? Spirits didn't eat or sleep, as far as she knew. Was Professor Binns even aware of his spectral state?

What could be the reason that some people became ghosts when they died, while others seemed to disappear completely?

 **...**

"Luna?"

The sound of her name was pleasant to hear, a welcome change from the nickname which characterized her to the majority of her peers. Luna turned, her spritely figure twisting whimsically. The sudden motion caused the bag slung over her shoulder to whisk her books from the surface of the desk, onto the floor.

Ginny stooped to help her gather her belongings, to Luna's pleasant surprise.

"Thank you," Luna beamed. "You're so very kind!"

Ginny laughed, looking a tad embarrassed. "Don't mention it." She handed Luna her journal, but not before doing a double take at one of the pages which had tumbled open from the fall. "Wow," her tone contained genuine interest as her eyes scanned the paper. "I don't mean to pry, but what is that?"

Ginny was referring to the handwritten script which covered the entirety of the page. The symbols certainly weren't Roman autography.

Luna glanced down at her own writing, at the multi-directional curves, spirals, dots and lines filling up the page. "Oh, just some of my thoughts," she conceded. "This way, whatever I write remains private."

"Is that a real language?"

Luna giggled. "It's real because I made it real."

"I suppose other students find it amusing, taking your things," Ginny said as they made their way out of the classroom. It was no secret that hassling Luna was a popular sport.

"Yes," agreed Luna diplomatically. "Though we mustn't blame them. Nargles are a real problem in this school."

Ginny looked openly confused and skeptical. "Nargles? What on earth are those?"

Luna smiled at the opportunity to teach Ginny. "They're these invisible, living particles floating around in highly populated places. They attach themselves to you and make you act wonky."

Ginny said nothing for a moment as the two girls ascended the staircase together. Luna settled into the silence comfortably, glad of the unexpected companionship.

"So, you think that the people who bully you, do it because they're overwhelmed by invisible wonky-things." Ginny's speech was lightly mocking, but her eyes portrayed her good nature. "You give them a lot of credit."

"Who, the Nargles?" Luna inquired, her dulcet voice gentle. "Not really; they're quite bothersome, I assure you."

It seemed that Ginny couldn't help but smile at Luna's endearing sense of humour. "No," she grinned, "the people who pick on you. I think you give them too much credit. They're awful."

Luna shrugged a shoulder, which caused one radish earring to dangle playfully. "I don't know, Ginny," she confided thoughtfully. "In my experience, nothing is ever as it seems."

"But Luna," Ginny carried on rather seriously, "when a person shows you their true colours, you ought to believe them. I know you're probably more brilliant than the rest of us realize, but you've got to be sensible, too."

Luna smiled in touched appreciation. "I thank you, Ginny, for your sincerity."

"It's like the other day," continued Ginny, undeterred. "You were chatting with that prig, Malfoy, on the stairs." She stared at Luna expectantly, awaiting her confirmation.

Luna blinked, sheepish. "Right." She grinned at Ginny. "I didn't notice you had noticed."

Ginny's high, freckled forehead crinkled in distaste. "What did he want from you?"

Luna's round eyes grew a fraction wider. "Nothing in particular," she replied vaguely, then smiled comfortingly. "Small talk."

Ginny looked taken aback. "That doesn't sound right," she stated. "Be careful, there. Malfoy's about as harmless as a Hungarian Horntail."

Luna quirked her head in acknowledgement. "Thanks for the company, Ginny."

Ginny smiled and it reached her eyes. "Pleasure. Say, why did you accompany me all the way up here? Ravenclaw Tower is on the fifth floor."

"Oh, you're right," Luna remarked, but gave no explanation. Ginny's eyes lit up with mirth and Luna realized she was coming off rather loony, but didn't mind. "Toodles, Ginny!"

Ginny waved goodbye, taking the corridor to the Gryffindor Common Room. "Speak to you soon."

Luna's heart was singing as she continued toward her destination. Something spurred her to seek out the Room, to see if she might access it. She closed her eyes as she circled the seventh floor, thinking that lack of sight might make her needs more prominent. She walked slowly, one step at a time, feeling her way through the corridor. On her third trip around the hallway, she opened her eyes, but no door had appeared.

"Drat," she said to herself. She was disappointed. The sentiment penetrated her bubbly optimism and she sank slowly to the floor, leaning against the rough stone wall with her legs splayed out before her. She didn't know why she wanted into the room so badly. Only that it was important.

Some Gryffindors passed by on the way to their Common Room and Luna garnered their curious looks. She looked strange, sitting there aimlessly, staring ahead at nothing, she knew. This had the power to make her smile. Strange people always got a great deal of attention. Unfortunately, much of it was negative. Strangeness was a provocative quality.

Luna sat there for a long time. Her courses were done. She might have gone to the library to work on her assignments, but that wasn't what she wanted to do. The Room of Requirement was a riddle that she found herself unable to solve. How was it she had stumbled upon it the first time? She'd been looking for her shoes and the door had materialized.

She'd found a scantily clad and drunk boy, but not her shoes. How did the Room of Requirement even function? It was supposed to show itself to those who had need of it. How did the Room decide what constituted real need?

It was clear to Luna that the Room had a mind of its own. She thought that if she waited patiently enough, the Room might show up for her out of respect for her sheer stubbornness. She waited, drumming her fingers against the cold stone floor.

It was near supper time. She thought on roasted potatoes fondly and finally got to her feet. "Tease," she shot at the absent Room with a wry smile before collecting her book bag and preparing to leave.

 **...**

Blaise and Pansy climbed the stairs with Draco in tow. "Come on Draco!" Exclaimed Pansy with exasperation. "Don't lag behind!"

Draco sighed and forced himself to keep up. Usually, he would lead the trio for the stakeout that they had in mind. As it was at present, Draco's pace was faltering. He focused on breathing evenly as he trooped the rest of the flight of stairs, which seemed to be unending. He tried to block out his friends' stifled exchange, but unfortunately he heard every word.

"What's going on with Draco?" Pansy asked Blaise. She darted a quick look at Draco over her shoulder. Stubbornly, he avoided her gaze.

Blaise made a derisive noise. "I don't bloomin' know, but it's getting old."

Pansy tittered. "Bloomin'," she parroted.

Blaise halted in his steps. "What about it?"

"Never knew you to be so tame with your choice of words," she retorted.

"Oh, fuck off."

"See?"

Draco joined up, interrupting Pansy and Blaise' shared laughter. "Right, let's get on with it," he drawled. He was not feeling good humoured, despite the delicious prank they were preparing to pull. There were still a few staircases to mount. Draco felt his calf muscles tense beneath the smooth fabric of his slacks.

By the time they arrived on the seventh floor, Draco was perspiring more than slightly.

 **...**

Luna found herself ascending to the seventh floor, for the umpteenth time that week. It was early in the morning, the rising sun piercing through the windows, letting in glorious strands of yellow light. Luna basked in the bright warmth. A ray of sunshine hit her directly in the chest, penetrating the white blouse, the slip she wore underneath and into her unsuspecting heart. The sensation was acute, like an appraising touch to a tender spot, a painfully sweet melancholia which made her shudder warmly. Wonderingly, Luna turned her body into the light which she could both see and feel. Her eyes, exceedingly sensitive due to the translucence of her pigmentation, burned slightly, pupils narrowing in response to the blinding shine. She stared into it anyway, until the grey walls around her had disappeared and she was entirely enveloped in sunshine.

Having had her dose, Luna disengaged, reticently. She was smiling and her silvery eyes were big and susceptible. The crown of her blonde head felt luxuriously heated. It was quite surreal, this spot on the seventh floor. She had found the perfect place to look out over the school grounds, with the exception, perhaps, of Gryffindor Tower. Luna observed her sleepy surroundings as they came to life, as if the sun had a revitalizing effect on all that it reached out to. Almost spiritually, she perceived that it was a fortunate day to be alive, indeed.

She existed for these moments, when her consciousness and conscience were clear, when any worries that might plague her later on in the day were as of yet irrelevant. This was true freedom, to feel so connected to herself and to everything around her, to notice the thoughts she entertained without fully believing any of them. Mindfulness, she believed, was the word for her current state. She felt glad to be Luna.

As life within the castle began to stir, Luna turned on the heels of her rainbow sneakers, intent on following through with the reason for her presence there on the seventh floor. Slowly, almost meekly, she walked through the corridor, one step at a time. It was absolutely essential that her intentions remain shrouded, even if her presence was not. She whistled casually, trying not to appear suspicious. One step, two steps, three steps, four steps and so on.

The tapestry where the door had last appeared was still in place when she passed it by. Luna felt her mouth quirk slightly in frustration. She felt like Dorothy, having been to the land of Oz only to realize it had all been a dream.

Luna's dreams, on the night of her encounter in the Room with Draco, had been vivid and strange. However, surely the events of that evening had not been a result of her imagination. It wasn't possible, for she could recall the sensation of her first kiss, the stomach-dropping surprise and the fervour with which Draco's mouth had gently caressed hers. Furthermore, the encounter was the only explanation for why Draco had been approaching her around the school on a regular basis.

So the Room did exist and must be, somehow, accessible. Luna turned the corner which would lead her past the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room. Her feet lifted out from under her and she fell, crashing to the ground.

From flat on her back, she stared up at the ceiling. Her body was vibrating painfully with the impact of the fall. "Huh..." She sat up stiffly, rubbing the many sore spots on her body. The back of her head in particular had received a hard knock. She shook it vigorously to clear her thoughts and regretted the action instantly.

She had somehow lost her footing. Luna picked herself up, slowly, caressing the base of her spine which was throbbing sharply. Funny, there didn't appear to be any spilled liquid on the floor which would explain her fall. Lifting one foot, Luna peered at the bottom of her shoe. No chewing gum altered the sole of her sneaker. It seemed she was simply clumsy.

Thinking nothing of it, she made as if to continue walking. The instant her foot made contact with the floor, she lost equilibrium, slipping in place as if her shoes were banana peels. "Woah woah woah!" She let out an alarmed exclamation, arms extended and paddling the air frantically, like some enormous, flapping bird. All the while she was sliding, twisting, somehow managing to stay on her feet despite the slickness of the mysteriously perilous flooring.

Luna halted her motion, wobbling precariously before finding a degree of steadiness. As long as she stood still, she was able to maintain stability. She glanced around the corridor, though her sight was limited by the awkwardness of her positioning. Legs spread shoulder-width apart, she dared not turn at the waist lest the movement threaten her newfound balance. She was limited to turning only her head in order to take in her surroundings.

Quite a pickle. Luna laughed softly as she considered her next move. Something about the situation was greatly comical. She wiggled, testing the grip of the floor: virtually nonexistent. What kind of high jink was this? It seemed to Luna that some sort of charm had been laid as a prank intended for the Gryffindor community. How devilishly clever!

It was impossible to be veritably upset about the trick, for it had been too well thought out. Luna wondered if she was the first victim of the prank. Probable, for there was no visible display of warning. Gryffindors were not known as the type to tolerate being made fools. A prior victim would have hurried to forewarn the others about the charmed floor. Only the Weasley twins might keep quiet about the prank for the sake of a good joke, supposing they weren't the masterminds behind the prank themselves.

Luna crouched, getting on her hands and knees. There really was no alternative. She made her way on all fours a short distance until the ground was solid enough to allow her to stand. It was then that she realized she was stuck in place. She slipped out of her shoes, which were cemented to the ground, and went back the way she had come in her stocking feet.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey readers! Thanks for bearing with me during the wait for this chapter. It can be really hard to feel confident in your own writing or even have the energy to write when you feel depressed. Add school and work and I have been busy. I still love Draco and Luna though :) Hope you enjoy this chapter and I will start working on the next one ASAP.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I do own a fangirl heart which loves J.K. Rowling's creations.**

* * *

The Room of Requirement:

Luna's feet were numb. It was, after all, very late in the season to be sitting by the lakeside, dipping one's feet. She had not thought this through. Still, she hadn't any regrets.

Bundled up in a jumper, it was only her less vulnerable lower half which interacted with the element. Cut at the ankles by lapping water as dark as the pits of the castle dungeons, her extremities were swallowed by the Great Lake's frigid caress, out of view and now without sensation. For the moment, she was footless, and perhaps this was for the best.

Her shoes, the psychedelic ones, were lost. Demoralising as the fact was, she was nearly ready to give up on the whole concept of footwear. Luna was clearly not meant to travel through life wearing shoes. She would have to learn to live without them—and since walking barefoot throughout all seasons was not a legitimate possibility, she might as well lose her feet while she was at it.

Caught up in her thoughts, Luna didn't notice Draco's presence until he was standing a few metres from where she sat.

He was looking out across the lake, visible to her by profile. _Handsome_ , she thought subconsciously. The afternoon sun played somewhat across his pale features, glinting off of the light blond hair parted down the middle of his forehead. Suddenly, in the midst of her scrutiny, he turned his head and caught her eyes. His expression remained stoic, slightly haughty, as he regarded her.

"Lovegood."

Her brow rose, softly responsive to the formality. "Draco," she acquiesced graciously. Abstractedly, she considered how theatrical the encounter was. Had she been standing, she might have curtsied.

Banter demanded that he comment on her current occupation. He didn't bother, but sighed from his location. She noted that the exhale came from his core and ended abruptly, like he stifled it before it could become a sigh.

"How are you?" Luna asked him, with some concern. Empathy was in her nature.

Draco smirked, but couldn't hide the divulging bags under his eyes. "Why do you ask, Loony?"

She accepted the slight with easy forbearance. "You are troubled, somehow. Not your usual self."

Draco frowned then, all pretention gone. "As if you know me to pass comment on my character," he levelled at her, a telltale edge to his voice.

Luna took the reproach silently, watching him from her spot. She did not like the way this interaction was going. A few beats passed and she thought it better not to speak. With resignation, she looked away from him and into the mist which began to drift over the Great Lake.

"Why were you crying the other day?"

Luna giggled with shock at the question. She grinned at him. He seemed mildly embarrassed as he finally sank to sit in the grass, though only after looking succinctly over his shoulder for any bystanders.

"Why do you ask?" She mused, cheeks slightly flushed. What was the purpose of these games?

Their eyes met and she detected rawness within his serious gaze, before he harnessed his demeanor. Draco shrugged, a rogue eyebrow lifting surreptitiously. His interest was laid bare and it was too late to pretend otherwise. Cleverly, he went with it.

"I might ask you why you were drinking that night," Luna mentioned, but her tone contained only thoughtfulness. "Why you're speaking to me now might be a bonus question."

Draco shifted in the grass, clenching his wand and gritting his teeth at the lake. "You're a Ravenclaw," he stated. "Supposed to be clever, aren't you?"

Luna didn't take the bait and indeed had no reason to. Her sense of self was well enough defined to reject arbitrary challenges to her ego. She smiled mystically, then started when she realized her feet had gone completely dead.

"Draco," she intoned meaningfully. "I," her wry smile stole the words. "My feet have gone numb. Might I request a hand?"

Draco looked at her and dead-panned, "That's out of the question."

"Draco," she repeated. With fascination she watched as his composure broke to reveal an actual smile, teeth and all. The expression, however short-lived, was adorably becoming.

"Yeah, alright," he replied gruffly, getting to his feet.

He reached forward and offered her his whitish hand, which she grasped with both of hers. Then he began lugging her without warning. Luna was pulled sideways, off balance and into a haphazard heap in the grass. Draco dragged her a few feet, out of the clutches of the lake. She held on for dear life as he heaved her dependant form, further than was necessary.

Luna craned her neck to look up at him, who was clearly strained by the exertion. "Thanks-," she began once he had taken a pause, only to be cut off by a reprisal of tugging motion. "Great, thanks," she tried again, to his obliviousness. He was simply pulling her like a life-sized rag doll now.

Draco released her gently upon the hill crest they had reached, satisfied. "There," he panted breathlessly.

Luna lay on her back, arms spread above her head, cushioned by the halo of long blonde hair which wrapped around her. Strands of grass were woven through it and her clothing was wrinkled. She stared up at Draco through round, candidly delighted silvery orbs. Luna had never felt so unexpectedly comfortable.

Draco glanced down at the result of his handiwork, taking in the absentminded gracefulness of her pose with a small pang of wonder. She looked remarkable, a forest nymph basking in the vivid greenery of a befittingly natural and lush environment. The cool air tinged her ivory cheeks with pink.

"Thank you," she spoke at last. Her voice was dreamlike, her expression blissful. Luna's lashes fluttered open and closed, unfocused, unintended bedroom eyes. She was in a state of deep relaxation onset by the effort of being dragged cumbersomely up a hill.

"You're heavier than you look," Draco plopped down next to her. He had a strong urge to lean over and kiss the peaceful face in all its gentleness, but remained stubbornly put.

Luna rewarded him with a chuckle. It built into a hearty laugh which shook her limbs. Draco listened to the sounds of her humour with interest, watching her inquisitively. She laughed from her belly, incessantly, for a few minutes. Witnessing the utter shamelessness of her glee, Draco felt its contagion and gave a few barks of laughter too.

When she had calmed down, she let out a crooning sigh of contentment and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "Whew! That was fun."

"Glad you enjoyed yourself," Draco shot back ironically. "What on earth were you doing, Loony?" He asked upon sight of her frosty-looking feet.

Luna found the question lacking in perceptiveness. "I thought it was rather obvious," she teased him gently.

"Why? They're nearly blue!"

The disapproval in his tone caught her notice. Luna wiggled her toes stiffly, cringing at the awful sensation. "It's just something I needed to do."

They were silent for a moment, Luna sitting up. Two blond heads stared ahead, into the distance. The silence felt awkward in waves. At some moments, it was nearly companionable. Eventually, Draco got up to take his leave.

"You're off?" Luna inquired. She would regret his absence. She was growing more accustomed to his distinct presence and the curiousness of his unpredictable moods and manner.

"Lots of coursework," he replied, though he owed her no explanation. "I have a lot to do before the Yule Ball."

"Oh, how fantastic. Are you taking anyone, then?"

"Of course, Lovegood. Pansy Parkinson will be my date."

"Oh. How wonderful."

"Yeah."

Luna smiled up at him. "I do hope you'll tell me all about the Ball."

Draco looked surprised. "Why would I do that? I only came to speak with you in the first place to give you these."

The Slytherin boy was still standing, but his shoulders curved forward sullenly and he refused to meet her gaze head-on. He thrust his hands into his pockets, came out slowly with an object clenched in either fist. Draco opened his palms to present a pair of miniature, multicoloured tokens. The shoes were rendered tiny, but there was no mistaking what they were.

"Oh, really!" Luna gushed, accepting the shoes from him in her cupped hands.

Her eyes and smile were enormous. Draco's own eyes seemed to luster briefly, but it might have been a trick of the slowly plunging sun.

"You need not have troubled yourself so much," she beamed, cradling her possessions as if she had been given a brand-new gift. "But you did, so thank you." She passed no comment on the size of the sneakers. They could be enlarged.

"Don't thank me," Draco admonished her. "It's not like I had much of a choice."

Luna was veritably confused. "How so?"

"Do you realize how stupid I'd have looked, walking around with those in hand?" He asked pointedly with a small gesture to the zany items in question. "It's not like I could be seen bringing them to Ravenclaw Tower or anywhere but away from you, for that matter."

"True," Luna acknowledged, for she knew exactly what he was referring to. Draco Malfoy couldn't, or more accurately wouldn't, be seen doing anything kind for someone like her. "It was considerate of you to risk social injury for me. How can I repay you?"

The tone was genuine, but her facial expression betrayed a sense of mischief. Draco's mouth quirked and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He had no idea whether to take her seriously or not. "Never mind. Let's just call it even."

"I wasn't aware that we were ever uneven," she observed.

Draco reacted in a fit of self-consciousness. His pallid cheeks streaked pink and he crossed his arms, staring far into the distance of the lake. "You know what I'm talking about."

"Oh! Right. But you already apologized for that, Draco."

He shrugged, but his body language lacked nonchalance. "I know I did. Still, it was a very inappropriate action."

Luna smiled and with her wand extended, murmured an enlargement incantation over the doll-like shoes. "Alright. I thought I would never see these bad-boys again. How did you come across them?"

Draco laughed in his cynical manner and chanced a look at her. "Exactly where you left them." He winked and turned away, striding back to the castle at a more confident pace than he had been using lately.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Please review and let me know if I did the characters justice given the context!**

 **xoxo Sacha**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello! Here is the chapter I've been building up to the whole story. It contains some adult content (rated T) which is non-canon.**

 **As you've no doubt noticed, this story deals with themes often associated with experiences of adolescence: identity, relationships, mental health, experimentation with substances, and new emotions. Nonetheless, it's still a Harry Potter story, so all these themes are contextualized!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but fanfiction lets me make the characters do my will :3.**

* * *

The Room of Requirement:

Draco watched himself in the mirror. The black velvet jacket and trousers of his dress robes were fitted and unwrinkled. This contrasted smartly with the pure white of his dress shirt. An oversized, alabaster bow-tie completed the ensemble. Platinum Malfoy hair parted on the side and shirt collar popped. He was the picture of class.

Yet, the darkness encircling his grey eyes was all too apparent. Draco squinted at his reflection. The whites of his eyes were as of yet unaffected, but it was only a matter of time before exhaustion ruined his looks entirely. Draco stared his mirror image down as if he might create a visible improvement to his health by sheer force of will.

His appearance was tied to his very namesake. Other pure-blood houses were known for their unfaltering allegiance to the Dark Lord or the ancient roots of their magical heritage. The Malfoys enjoyed the distinguishing elements of wealth and beauty, although they too were to be counted among the oldest and truest pure-blood wizarding families.

Attentively, he denoted his features. Smooth oval face, elongating with the effects of puberty. The jaw and cheekbones were becoming more prominent, the nose having grown perhaps a bit longer, though still classical. The first remarks of facial hear were sprouting, blond hair that had always been there but was now grown a bit thicker. He was reasonably tall and wiry, with platinum hair that was softer and shinier since he had ceased slicking it back. Draco should have been able to take pride in his appearance, but his sleeplessness lessened him into something lackluster.

He ran a hand through his hair, an involuntary attempt to dispel the suspense which was causing his heart to beat so erratically. If only the motley of unpleasant sensations he was experiencing were due to anticipation instead of apprehension. Draco was not one of the Triwizard champions whose responsibility it was to open the dance at the Yule Ball. Still, he was perspiring more than slightly.

With a quick try of the knob which assured him that the dormitory remained inaccessible, he performed the Scouring Charm on himself for the third time that evening. The effect had him fresh and dry, for the moment.

Draco addressed his reflection. "No shame in that," he consoled himself. It was awfully hot in the dress robes, though his fingers were abnormally cold. Just then, the doorknob began to rattle, interrupting his privacy.

"Malfoy!" The fruitless twisting of the knob gave way to an exuberant pounding on the door. "Oi!"

Draco hastened to answer. He didn't wish for anyone to think he had something to hide, but it was already too late. The mask came on, but only seconds before Zabini's face appeared at the door jamb.

"Locking the door? Pervy."

Draco scoffed and deigned not reply. Blaise wasn't waiting for a response, anyway, for he pushed past and entered the room. His gaze swept over the dormitory.

"What are you up to?"

Draco felt his face begin to heat up. "I was dressing, which you very nearly barged in on."

Blaise laughed hoarsely. "Your high-born arse doesn't interest me, Malfoy. Enough stalling. It's time to party."

They left the room and made their way into the common area of the Slytherin dungeons. Finely dressed students, mostly fourth years and above, filled the space. Slytherins were standing in groups, lounging in armchairs. A long-limbed sixth-year girl in a purple dress was draped luxuriously over a divan, sipping from a silver flask. The Prefect badge at her breast winked in the firelight.

Draco had never witnessed the Slytherin common area appear so much like the venue of an underground nightclub, or so he imagined. The everyday emerald hue created by the Great Lake, as displayed by the many windows in the room, was emphasized by a stroboscopic charm cast upon the hanging lamps. Consequently, the whole space was sporadically awash in an aura of glowing green fluorescence.

He felt even warmer among the many bodies. The strobe lights were flashy, a real sight to behold. In Draco's bewilderment, he lost sight of Zabini. He stood alone for a few moments, taking it all in.

It wasn't long before he was in possession of a flask passed to him by an older student. With a nod of recognition, Draco accepted the metal container, which was engraved with something he couldn't quite make out in this light. He guzzled vigorously before returning the vessel of mead to its rightful owner. The individual didn't seem to notice his greed and took a hearty sip of the honey-wine, the flask evidently a self-replenishing one.

With a drink to take the edge off of his nerves, Draco was inclined to try his best to enjoy himself. He scanned the room in search of Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, any of his entourage really. After making the round of the room, they were spotted in a corner. The huddle his friend group had formed opened up when he approached, which Draco found unexpectedly welcoming.

"Now, don't we look handsome," Pansy greeted him.

Draco gave a hollow laugh. "We do indeed," he agreed.

Pansy's dark tresses were collected in a stylish updo, revealing the feminine curves of her heart-shaped face. The pale pink dress she wore accentuated her form pleasantly, although it was too frilly for his taste. Her gaze bore deeply into his as if trying to decode his thoughts. Warily, he held her stare, blinking when it became too much. She smirked coyly, resuming conversation with a heavily done up Millicent Bulstrode

Crabbe and Goyle didn't have dates, but Zabini had the elder Greengrass sister on his arm. Daphne was clad in emerald green silk with her shiny blonde hair pulled into a low twist. Draco saw that although she stayed tuned into the conversations happening around her, Daphne appeared bored or at the very least passive.

Draco felt very much that he was being scrutinized, although his suspicions were baseless. His facial muscles were taut, contorting into whatever the most appropriate expression seemed to be at a given moment. He feigned a chortle when Pansy told a joke that had the whole group laughing. It made him feel like a fraud. Draco wasn't sure he would be able to survive a whole night of this, of false enjoyment and forced socialization.

Fortunately, a loophole to his discomfort appeared when Blaise pulled a mickey of Firewhisky out of his robes and took to it.

"Zabini, give it here," he called. It wasn't an order, but not really a request.

Blaise's thick brow rose skeptically. "Manners, Malfoy," he retorted.

Blaise was about to return the bottle to his pocket, but instead twisted the cap and took another gulp. Then he passed it to Daphne, who gritted her teeth and swallowed a surprising amount of the fiery alcohol.

Daphne handed the bottle to Pansy, who took a tentative sip. "Mmm," she cooed in pleased surprise.

Goyle had his turn and Crabbe followed suit, the former chugging the burning liquid to the point of choking and the latter belching loudly when he was through. Millicent Bulstrode was too disgusted by the sharing of germs to wish to partake.

The bottle was finally in Draco's grasp. He wiped the opening off with his sleeve before putting his lips to the tepid glass, pouring its contents down his throat with ease.

"How d'you get that, Blaise?" Crabbe asked.

"I have connections."

The group lingered in a haphazard circle, passing the bottle around intermittently. Draco was vaguely aware of the swill of combined salivas he was ingesting with each sip, but there was naught to do. He hadn't possessed the forethought to procure his own drink for the evening. By all accounts, he had underestimated the motives of self-indulgence and grandeur which accompanied the occasion of the Yule Ball.

Slowly but surely, with the firewhisky warm in his belly, Draco felt human again. He and Crabbe continued to swap the bottle between themselves after the others declared themselves to be getting tipsy. Pansy usually maintained an expression of cat-like insouciance but was currently visibly flustered. Daphne was recounting an anecdote in loud tones and losing track of her progress, where before she had been all but silent.

So the alcohol was bringing out the best in them all.

It wasn't clear how much time had passed, but all was going smoothly. Draco realized that his friends did like him. Tonight, their power of intrigue was more potent than he had felt it since the very beginning of the school year. The ice was broken and his worries, although still turning in the back of his mind, nettled him at a reduced speed.

"It's time!"

The cry broke from among the Prefects, ringing out over the entire Slytherin crowd. Conversations were interrupted as students attempted to get their wits about them. Draco's gang advanced amid flocks of Slytherins, integrating into the line up of couples. Pansy stayed at his side, stealing a sly sip of firewhisky before passing the bottle back to Blaise indefinitely.

"You reek of alcohol," she commented, wrinkling her pug nose facetiously. Pansy was wriggling excitedly in time with the file as it advanced, steadily, toward the passageway of the Slytherin Dungeons.

Draco lifted one shoulder helplessly. "Well, I don't plan on getting up close and personal with anyone. Least of all one of the professors."

"You can invade my personal space, Draco. I _am_ your date."

Draco was unprepared for the implication that such closeness might occur, though he realized on some level that there would be dancing.

"Do I smell like firewhisky?"

Draco leaned in slightly and inhaled of Pansy's scent. The girl smelled strongly of vanilla, with some subtle notes of alcohol. Even then, perhaps he was inadvertently getting a whiff of the merry cocktail which hung about his own person.

"You smell like vanilla ice cream." What a pleasantly stupid thing to say.

Pansy looped her arm through his as they stepped through the passageway of the Dungeons and into the fully lit corridor. "Your favourite, yeah?"

* * *

The opening waltz went well. After the lift, Draco lowered Pansy with as much stability as he could muster. She was a solidly built girl, but he had some strength in him yet. Pansy's chocolate brown eyes beamed secretively as they glided together to the accompanying music.

"Not bad, Malfoy."

Draco snorted, a hand still upon her waist. "Could be worse."

Pansy grinned deviously, peering into the crowd. "Better than Potter, I gander."

 _No shit,_ he wished to say, but the steps of the Champions Waltz required his focused attention. Draco rolled his eyes and they did the whole thing over a few more times.

Before he knew it, they were dancing. Not the choreography of the beginning of the soiree, but loose-jointed, writhing, thrashing movement to the beat of the drums and bass. After a few minutes, sweat was trickling down his face. He was concentrated on his moves, too self-conscious to look up at the band playing or to face his entourage. Draco anticipated the chance that he may look up to see his insecurity confirmed in the eyes of another student, reflecting back at him. Worse yet, he might trip over his robes.

He knew not how he looked, though he had enough ability to feel that he wasn't proving a total disgrace.

The Malfoys hosted a Christmas party every year. There was some dancing, but not like this. As Narcissa and Lucius' only heir, Draco was, in essence, an extension of their wills. His parents counted on him to uphold the reputation of the Malfoy dynasty, which existed in a state of precarity during the present political era. So much in contrast with Pure-Blood glory days. It was inculcated into Draco's very psyche not to make a mockery of his family name, on a frequent basis.

Pansy didn't have this problem. She danced boastfully, grooving her shoulders and especially her hips to the rhythm. Her eyes sparkled erratically, but her lips curved into a contented sneer. Draco was caught off guard by the brazenness she exuded, the power of her aura. For maybe the first time, Draco fathomed that Pansy's self-confident disposition possessed the tenacity for her to be considered a truly worthy opponent in any physical domain.

"I didn't know you knew how to move!" She cried at him over the music.

"Really," he responded evenly, with an ironic side smirk. "Not as well as you, girl."

He was flirting and it was keenly awkward, but also fairly satisfying. Liquid courage balanced the conflicting feelings out, although there was no displacing the self-consciousness which had been a thorn in his side since early that summer.

Draco recalled the last time he had had a drink, nearly a whole bottle of rum to himself just over a month since past. Luna Lovegood had suddenly come upon him in the Room of Requirement, which had welcomed him in the form of a sauna after a particularly rough week. He remembered that, in his impaired judgment, he had accosted her with his lips.

And he had enjoyed it.

What were Luna's feelings on the matter? Had she felt any sense of enjoyment during that moment, or simply a sense of violation? Logically, the second option should have prevailed. However, using his corporeal memory of their kiss rather than his rationale, he sentiently recalled her reaction as having been comprised of surprise and pliability. Luna's instinctual response to his actions had not contained any repulsion.

It was impossible for Draco to know what she had felt during that moment, but he remembered the silent gasp her mouth had formed on his. Whether due to shock or pleasure, or both, he could not be certain, but it was a delectable gratification which he had swallowed willingly. Draco recalled the heat which had seared him upon holding her susceptibleness to him, a passion which had later perturbed his good sense. He allowed himself to recall the whole thing with a twinge of uneasy approbation, now, before closing off from the poignant feelings the recollection currently produced.

Draco was curious. Would he enjoy kissing Pansy to the same extent?

 _Of course_ , his inner voice stated. But, the thought was mechanical, an automated answer to a confronting question. Draco glanced at Pansy to see where she was looking. If she was looking at him, he would kiss her before the night was over. If not, well, it wasn't like he had invested a great deal of thought into the idea.

When it came to it, Pansy was looking elsewhere. However, she clasped his forearm in an effort to gain Draco's attention, unaware that he had been observing her. "Look at the Mudblood. What a scene!"

Draco turned to look in the direction Pansy was pointing tactlessly. He could vaguely see a blubbering Hermione Granger through the crowd of gyrating bodies. Automatically, Draco laughed at the embarrassing display as Granger rushed from the scene, observed from a short distance by a stony-faced Krum.

Draco squinted. "How pathetic."

Pansy's brusque expression was betrayed by a hint of interest in her voice as she said, "Viktor seems put-out."

He gave her a sidelong glance as her hand slid from his arm. "Serves him right, bringing a Mudblood as a date."

"Agreed."

Just then, Blaise approached, laden with a limp Daphne hanging off of his shoulder. "Come and let's get some fresh air."

Pansy hurried to Daphne's other side, taking up a supportive position beneath the blonde's arm. "Silly girl. Is she alright?"

Blaise's chiseled features set in mild discomfort. He blinked. "She's breathing."

Draco accompanied the three figures as they stumbled to the door. He scanned the masses, wondering aloud, "Where are Crabbe and Goyle?

"Who cares where your henchmen are." Pansy's tone was firm, bordering on impatient. "You don't need them tonight. You have us."

"Alright then."

After all, it wasn't untrue.

* * *

They went a little past the courtyard, which was sparsely occupied by lovey-dovey couples and subject to the rotational supervision of certain professors.

Blaise used his wand to enlarge the square of fabric which lined his pocket into the size of a blanket. Pansy and Draco draped it over the ground just as the sleepy Daphne lost her balance and buckled downward. She landed gently with no audible sign of dismay. It was snowing and Draco cast a charm for a small fire, lest they all catch a chill.

"She really can't hold her liquor," he observed dryly. He had consumed a lot more firewhiskey than Daphne and he felt all the better for it.

Blaise shrugged a tad remorsefully. The flickering flames created by Draco's spell lit his dark chocolate skin with a warm glow and revealed the mockery in his eyes. "Too bad. I was going to make it a memorable evening."

Pansy, standing between the two boys, snorted at this. Snowflakes were collecting on her bare shoulders. "Right! You wish, Zabini!"

"Let's have some more firewhiskey," Draco suggested as they observed Daphne from above. "She'll come around, I think."

As Blaise retrieved the bottle, they heard a halloo coming from a short distance. Pansy turned to face the noise and remarked with visible excitement, "Look, there's Viktor! Viktooor!"

Krum and his friend Akselsen walked up sporting big smiles. They nodded in greeting to each of the Slytherins, lingering for a curious moment on Daphne's crumbled form.

Draco couldn't help himself. "Going solo, then, Krum?"

Krum rolled his eyes, but he didn't appear angry. His accented baritone rang out, "She is too sensitive!"

"Why of course she is. We know why..."

"I beg to differ, Pansy," Blaise stated conversationally. "As much distaste as I have for Granger, I'm not sure that sensitivity is a Mudblood trait."

They passed the bottle around slowly, including the new arrivals. Draco took his time, sipping leisurely before letting the bottle out of his grasp. They had nearly finished it off. "Muggles are brutish. I rather think her sappy personality is to blame for the outburst." He eyed Krum tepidly to see if he had touched any sore spot.

The Bulgarian appeared just as mild, except for a tell-tale twist of his mouth. "Either way, she is a beautiful witch."

Daphne, who had been silent all this time, rolled over, mumbling incoherently. Draco felt some pity for her, though he would not have exchanged their places.

Krum laughed in jovial commiseration with Daphne. "Poor girl. I have been in her position many times."

"You have?" Pansy voiced the query.

"Yes. So much that I know the solution."

Krum elbowed Akselsen and muttered something in their language. Akselsen nodded comprehensively, pulling a leather pouch out of his coat pocket. Untying it, he shook a bit of white, shimmering powder into the palm of his hand. Before any of the entourage could get a closer look, the powder was gone without a trace, inhaled by the owner of the substance.

They observed in stunned silence.

Pansy was the first to break the silence. "What is that? Some kind of synthesized Pixie Dust?"

Krum accepted the leather pouch from his comrade, who was leaning back with a felicitous expression. "Trust me, you will love it."

In some awe, Draco asked, "Is that what I think it is?"

"Come try it and find out."

The hollow laugh made its return. "I don't trust you. Go ahead."

Pansy's sugary voice interrupted the terse exchange. "I trust you, Viktor."

Krum smiled at her, handing over the small pouch, the frosted contents rivaling the shade of the freshly fallen snow. "For you."

"How do I .. do this?" She looked around as if for assistance.

Blaise interjected, "We need a hard surface."

"No, you don't. Just do it the way Akselsen did," Draco replied knowingly, though in truth he was no more an expert than the others.

Pansy nodded, measuring out a portion suitable for her consumption into her own cupped hand. She no longer hesitated whatsoever. The adolescent tilted her face downward, equal to the powder in her palm. For a brief moment, Draco worried that the stuff would scatter with a gust of the wind, but it was not so. Pansy plugged one side of her nose with her index finger and with a strong inspire, she snorted the line in the other nostril. Wide-eyed, she let her hand fall, looking at her friend group, whose keen eyes were also on her.

"So, Pansy?"

"How do you feel?"

A short moment passed as she came to terms with the flood of sensation which filled her. Pansy cleared her throat then stated in utter seriousness, "I'm a goddess."

The boys laughed and Blaise, who was watching in lewd fascination, said, "Salazar Slytherin, I'm sold." He took the stuff from Pansy, who flashed a cryptic smile. Blaise set himself up using the same process, though he didn't lower his head rather brought the stuff to his refinedly sculpted nose. A minute passed by in seconds as the substance filtered into his bloodstream. "Oh. Shit," he murmured, staring dumbfoundedly into space.

Draco's interest was assuredly piqued. "Alright," he said decidedly. "It's my turn."

Krum laughed, appropriating the baggie and pouring out a small serving. He extended his hand, laid out flat, before Draco's face invitingly. "This should be enough for you, Malfoy."

Draco scoffed. "Let's not be stingy."

Krum sneered but acquiesced, giving over. Draco fumbled with the receptacle, trying not to drop anything. Finally, he brought the whole pouch upward and making his mind up, snorted from it. His sinuses reacted sharply to the chalky intrusion, mucus dripping down the back of his throat in proof of the interconnectedness of the entire respiratory system.

Nonetheless, any unpleasantness ebbed away momentarily, replaced by a feeling of facial numbness. "Bloody hell..." Draco fondled his mouth, strangely. It was like it didn't belong to him. Amid this curiosity, he was suddenly overcome, superimposed by a vibration of pure rapture. The feeling surged from Draco's toes to the crown of his head, which felt noble and bursting with his uncontainable personality. Or, perhaps it was his ego.

He found himself speaking without making the conscious choice to do so. Draco felt suddenly twice more drunk but confident and smooth-talking in his inebriation. "That's fuckin' brill. We're brilliant. We run this place!"

Pansy was grinning beatifically. "It's so true, though! Screw Gryffindors!"

Krum laughed triumphantly. "Haha! I said that you would like it!"

Draco's dilated pupils met the Bulgarian wizard's muddy irises. "You were right for once."

Blaise grabbed Krum's arm eagerly. "Daphne, too," he insisted.

Daphne was not quite passed out. She was conscious of being shaken lightly and of the group calling out to her in unison. "Daphne!"

"Noo, I'm sleeping," she moaned, head pillowed on her arms.

"Here, love." Blaise sat down on the blanket, propping her solidly against his chest. Krum had taken the pouch back from Draco and kneeled before them.

"Wha's that? What, up my nose?"

Draco was in a fantastic mood, abuzz with euphoria. He and Pansy stood off to the side as Krum and Blaise administered a tiny hit for Daphne.

Daphne sniffed sloppily in the aftermath of the hit, rubbing her nose. She looked taken aback from the peak of adrenaline as it took her. "Aalright then," she drawled, stumbling to her feet like a drunken doe, supported by Blaise's steady arm.

"Everyone!" Pansy was crowing. "We need to go inside and dance. Right now."

Draco chuckled at the urgency of her tone. "Emergency dance time, folks."

There were significantly fewer students occupying the Great Hall when they entered, but it felt like all eyes were on them. Draco and Pansy made a beeline for the dance floor, leading the others. Draco did not mind the Weird Sisters in general, but the band was exactly fitting tonight. He started off jostling to the music, gaining in speed until they were all jumping about. It wasn't embarrassing in the least: he was a bloody, blond rockstar. It was only a shame that he wasn't up there on stage.

Draco lost balance regularly during the profuse dancing, picking himself up painlessly each time with a cheerful laugh. His friends also laughed at him, which he was actually glad of. It meant they were paying attention to him and that their sense of humour was on par with his. The dancing seemed interminable and so was his supply of energy. Until it wasn't anymore. Gradually, Draco felt his steps begin to falter as his muscles cramped in protest of the required effort. He realized disagreeably that he wasn't enjoying himself anymore. He wasn't high, so much as too drunk and thoroughly exhausted. He glanced uncertainly at Pansy to see how she was faring.

"I'm dead," she huffed. She was glistening with sweat.

"So's this scene," he noticed.

"Did the others leave recently?"

"I dunno."

They made their way through the remaining throng of students, brashly evading Professor McGonagall's severe vigilance, to the outdoor meeting place of earlier on. Zabini and his date were nowhere to be found, but to Draco's surprise, Crabbe, Goyle, and Krum were hanging about.

"Hey, Krum," Draco called out impulsively as they approached. "What do you reckon we keep the party going?"

Krum laughed stiffly, with no accompanying smile. "You had enough."

"What's that now?"

"Draco," Pansy hissed. "He doesn't have to share."

Krum met his eyes critically. When Draco didn't shy away, he broke off with a scowl. "Listen to your friend. She is smart girl."

Draco frowned and cast off to the side, nearer to Crabbe and Goyle. He was baffled by the fact that Viktor Krum was so magnanimous with the other Slytherins yet so outright rude to him. It had been that way since their meeting. As soon as Draco had introduced himself as a Malfoy.

Equally off-putting was the fact that Pansy was smiling in delight over the vague praise his rival had given her.

Swallowing his resentment, Draco leaned against the cold stone of the castle wall, shivering as he became aware of the unfavorable conditions. He was very drunk, with eyesight gone slightly fuzzy. It was entirely too cold to be loitering out here. Moreover, the conversation happening around him wasn't particularly stimulating. It seemed to be about the right time to turn in for the night.

Something kept him from walking off though.

Pansy was even more underdressed than him, yet she didn't appear to feel the cold. Draco wondered if he should offer her his jacket. As he debated whether it was worth it to do so and how theoretically to go about it, he listened to the dialogue, which had moved on a great deal without him.

Pansy was lamenting the fact that she still had not made the Slytherin Quidditch team.

"If you want to be quidditch player, you need endurance. You must be fit." The assertion was made in Krum's deep voice.

"Viktor, how dare you," she mocked. "You can tell that just from looking at my curves?"

Crabbe voiced something about womanly curves which they all ignored.

Krum was saying, "You need muscles to be a success in the sport."

Draco perked up. "Muscle is important for Beaters and Chasers. You're fast enough to make goal-keeper."

Pansy cocked her head. "Thanks...but I'll take Quidditch advice from the Quidditch star."

Krum continued, "When you can do this-" his sizable form catapulted forward, taking up a one-armed handstand with barely a grunt of effort, "you know that you will join the team."

"Like this?"

Pansy mimicked him with a lunge onto her two palms, supporting the reversed vertical position with her upper body strength. The skirts of her gown naturally gravitated downward, which she just barely caught with one hand. "Merlin, I didn't think this through." The sudden lack of support made the stance unsolid and she rocked back and forth, searching for balance.

Draco came forward, then, to hold up her petticoat as Krum studied the technique of her handstand. Either way, there was no hiding the fact that Pansy's thighs were visible to the point of being indecent. After an instinctive glimpse, Draco pretended not to notice. It seemed to him that Krum was not bothering with such decorum.

"Alright, help me up."

Once Pansy was back on her feet they started towards the entrance. It wasn't late anymore. It was early. Draco lagged behind, caught up in his thoughts. He wished Pansy would ignore Krum and resume her position by his side. Since they had used Krum's substance she had become more than haughty, her friendliness for Draco replaced by a greediness for the celebrity's attention.

Goyle played into Draco's wishes by distracting the Triwizard Champion with a random question, giving Draco the chance to draw her attention subtly. "Pansy."

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?" He asked crossly. "You're not speaking to me anymore."

"Oh, come on," Pansy responded sharply. "You're bloody sensitive sometimes."

"I'm bored. You're busy falling all over yourself for Krum."

She made a noise of disdainful nonchalance. "Just jealous."

"He's not interested in you," he informed her. "He's with the Mudblood."

Passing beneath a torch lamp, Draco saw that Pansy's cheeks had become visibly reddened. "We're having a _laugh_ \- at least we know how. You're so overly emotional this year, I'm getting to be sick of it."

"Yeah?" Draco stared at her incredulously. Her words had felt like a blow, giving him a sick feeling in his stomach. "Goodbye, then."

"Right, go cry over it."

"I'll cry from laughing at the stupidity of taking you as a date."

Picking up speed, he passed them, entering the castle on his own. The night had been so diverting. Why had it come to this?

Great friends he had. Blaise and Daphne had disappeared without a word. Pansy had gone two-faced on him. Crabbe and Goyle were clueless. Krum wasn't even a friend.

Swaying slightly from the culmination of all that he had experienced, Draco ascended to the seventh floor. He couldn't stand to be around his housemates at the moment. He was going to the Room of Requirement, and it had bloody well better take him in.


End file.
